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HYMNS AND POEMS 



Sid* attft Suffering 



R1VINGT0NS 

London . Waterloo Place 

Oxford High Street 

Cambridge Trinity Street 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



FOR THE 



xck ant) (Suffering 



EDITED BY 

THOMAS VINCENT FOSBERY, M.A. 

VICAR OF ST. GILES, READING 



V 




RIVINGTONS 

Hontfon, ©xfartf, anil CamfcrtUge 
1871 

[Eighth Edition} 




■ Ft 



Siick &nb Suffering 

tfjts Folttme is trttitrateti 

in tfje affectionate trestre 

tfjat tfje helpless Uags antf Wearisome rttgfjts 

appoints to tfjem 

mag be sootfjen ann ftrigfjteneti bg tfje 

$cns£ of Jfatt!) 



FOR THE 



Suk anb Suffering 



" r I ^HE heart knoweth his own bitterness, and 

X a stranger doth not intermeddle with his 
joy." These touching words apply both to the 
greater and also to the lesser and more frequent trials 
of life. We never fully understand how heavily even 
daily and common griefs press upon the hearts of 
others, nor how keenly troubles may be felt by them 
which we should think easy to bear. Nor are we 
always ready to admit, what is yet most true, that 
of each of these sorrows, a far greater portion is 
hidden from our view, than that which lies open 
before us. And if this be so in ordinary measures 
of pain or sorrow, much more must it be, in those 
instances of acute suffering, or deep affliction 
which sometimes occur. The isolation of spirit, 
expressed in this remarkable passage, is certain 
then to make itself felt, even amidst all the tender 
sympathy of those who best love the sufferer, and 
the unlooked-for kindnesses which so often spring 
up around him in the hour of his distress. ?So 



Vlll HYMNS AND POEMS 

other can read the secrets of his inner life, nor 
measure his capacities for sorrow. It may be that 
the outward aspect of his trial gives but the faintest 
indication of its real power; but even when it is 
plainly seen to be one of the most grievous which 
can afflict man, the bitterness of his anguish can 
be tasted by no other ; we are divided from him by 
the necessary condition of our separate existence, 
and though we too bear about with us the incom- 
municable joys and sorrows which belong to our 
own individual being, we do not and cannot know 
how deeply the iron is entering into his soul. 
When we are grieved at his griefs, and do most truly 
feel for and with him, there is still very much in 
which we cannot share ; the heaviness that clouds 
many long hours of every day, the burthen of the 
night-watches, the protracted aching of the heart ; 
much that is too deeply felt to be told, and can 
be fully known only to God. 

None should be more ready to confess that their 
acquaintance with the peculiarities of others' suffer- 
ings is limited and imperfect, than those who 
address the sick and afflicted. It were grievous, 
did we seem to them intrusive, insensible to the 
sacredness of affliction, or yet unprepared to offer 
that true sympathy which, with all its imperfections, 
is most soothing, which they may well claim, and 
which we have known too much of suffering our- 
selves to withhold. 

If we would trace the history of suffering, we 
must first look back to its origin. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING IX 

We know that as our unfallen nature was created 
in the beginning, every faculty and affection was so 
ordered as to minister only to happiness, and that 
the wonderful connexion between soul and body 
contributed to the perfectness of both. It was not 
until Adam sinned by putting self in the place of 
God, the will of the creature above the will of the 
Creator, that death came into the world. Had 
there been no transgression, there would have been 
no pain; which is not known among the sinless, 
and has no place in heaven. 

Hence it is that all forms of suffering are evi- 
dences of man's fall ; those which wear down the 
physical strength, and make the course of life a 
protracted dying ; such also as are occasioned by 
the loss of those we love ; the griefs which spring 
from crushed affections ; and still more evidently 
the pain which follows actual wrong-doing, and the 
fearful throes of impenitent remorse. 

In these thoughts there is, alas ! no comfort ; for 
if by nature we are prone to evil, and by character 
are actually sinful, and if therefore suffering be what 
we both inherit and also deserve, what is there to 
hinder every new sin from bringing fresh suffering, 
and then increased suffering from lashing us into 
the madness of more aggravated transgression ? 
This indeed were frightful to contemplate \ for who 
could endure to be abandoned here to pain, to be 
searched through and through by anguish, without 
seeing either a limit to its duration, or a purpose 
for it to accomplish ? Yet if we consider only man's 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



deservings, how should he look for better things, 
who at the first revolted from God, and has ever 
since been ready to widen the breach between 
himself and his Maker ? 

The compassion of God Himself could alone 
deliver us from so fearful a condition. And the 
name which we all bear suggests the means of this 
deliverance. We are called Christians because we 
belong to our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. He, 
the eternal Son of God, graciously took the burthen 
of humanity upon Him to redeem us through His 
life, death, and resurrection, from sin, and from its 
necessary consequence, suffering. By His one ob- 
lation of Himself once offered, He made a full, 
perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satis- 
faction for the sins of the whole world. 1 For His 
merit only, are we, through faith, counted righteous 
before God. 2 The power both of sin and of suffering 
is thus broken for us. Of sin, since if we are living 
members of Him to whom we were joined in our 
baptism, we are ever receiving through Him, from 
the Father, the gift of the Holy Ghost, to enlighten 
and sanctify us, and mould us into conformity with 
His blessed image ; so that we may continually in 
this strength put sin away, as that which can no 
longer claim dominion over us. — Of suffering too ; 
for our Lord in our place, and as our representative, 
suffered for us, that He might deliver us from the 
bitter pains of eternal death ; and that, to them that 
are truly His, there should remain no condemnation. 

1 Communion Service. 2 Xlth Article. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING XI 

And by the same great and mysterious atonement, 
He has changed the character of those temporal 
sufferings about which we are now inquiring. When 
He stood forth, in our nature, as the new head of 
our race, and triumphed where Adam fell, He 
healed the sick, and raised the dead, as being the 
Conqueror for us of those powers to which man 
had been brought into subj ection ; and if we are 
"found in Him," we are made partakers of His 
victories. Those afflictions which were as fierce 
beasts going about to destroy, have been tamed by 
the gracious hand of Christ, and are made to minister 
to the wants of His people. Those which were as 
deadly poisons, aggravating the diseases of our 
souls, are changed into healing medicines, in the 
gift of the great Physician. 

While we are in a world where sin and temptation 
are yet found, suffering cannot be taken away. But 
if we are able to recognize in it the loving correction 
of a Father, we may even "rejoice in tribulation." 
For with all its bitterness it is indeed a dispensation 
of healing, and it is ever meant to accomplish, 
through the blessing of God's good Spirit, some 
merciful purpose for all who will receive it meekly 
as from Him. Generally, something will be found 
in the nature of the affliction, which addresses 
itself to some peculiarity in the character or 
circumstances of him to whom it is sent, — and if 
this fitness be perceived by the sufferer, he may 
see also the hand from which it comes, and the 
purposes for which it is appointed. 



Xll HYMNS AND POEMS 

Perhaps the world is all fair and bright round 
some young and joyous spirit; the present full of 
pleasures which have not yet lost their freshness ; 
the future glowing with still happier anticipations. 
A thousand engagements fill the time ; nor, amidst 
the pressure of all these daily pursuits, is God quite 
forgotten. His public worship is not altogether 
slighted, private prayer is not wholly neglected. 
His service takes its turn with that of the world 
and of self. But the heart has not yet learned that 
God is the Supreme Object, His will the standard 
to which all must be referred : there is no depth, 
perhaps no reality in its religion. 

Affliction comes, and the tumult of the world is 
exchanged for the stillness of a sick or saddened 
chamber. God has called aside out of the crowd 
this one of His servants to speak with alone. 
Solemn truths, before unknown, or forgotten, or put 
aside to a more convenient season, are now brought 
before the stricken heart. Perhaps for the first time 
, it learns that "life is earnest;" that time itself is a 
gift, which we must not abuse by a thoughtless 
abandonment to the impulses of the undisciplined 
mind; that religion does not consist in a certain 
amount of work done, one day in seven given to 
God, to ransom all the others for ourselves ; in a 
certain portion of religious reading got through, 
chiefly that we may have leave from our consciences 
to read, and think, and feel, in the main, after the 
imaginations of our own hearts ; in a certain amount 
of almsgiving, to set free all the rest of our worldly 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



goods for selfish purposes; in a word, in the 
reluctant giving up of a part of this world, that we 
may, in the rest, be worldly without risk. 

In this time of trial the utter vanity of every such 
system of compromise may first be clearly perceived, 
and the great distinctive principle of Christianity, 
as proclaimed by our Lord Himself, be first truly 
apprehended ; that principle which reveals to us the 
secret of all real spiritual life : — " Abide in Me and 
I in you : as the branch cannot bear fruit, except it 
abide in the vine \ no more can ye, except ye abide 
in Me." And if so, the notion of resting satisfied 
because we occasionally approach Him, while in 
truth we are living a separate and independent life, 
— which is in such manifest opposition to His own 
most blessed will concerning us, — will be altogether 
abandoned. For we may not consider our religion 
as an affair, which, though indeed important, has 
but its set time, and which, being transacted, 
may be put aside to give room for others. For 
our life is our religion, — our life, and nothing less. 
Insomuch that all our engagements and pursuits, 
our daily intercourse with others, even when not a 
word is spoken on strictly religious subjects, all 
must be chastened, elevated, brightened, pervaded, 
by the grace of Christ within. 

If such truths are wrought into the heart when 
the hour of sickness or calamity has touched and 
opened it, if a new meaning is given to life, and if, 
when eternity in all its vastness appears so close at 
hand, God also is brought very near ; then indeed 



XIV HYMNS AND POEMS 

there will be reason to bless Him for all this time 
of severe and heavy trial. 

But affliction is perhaps sent to some other, who 
having had far better opportunities of knowing the 
truth, is too wayward to follow it. God has long 
been speaking to him by His providence, by the 
example and by the ministry of others, by His 
holy word and sacraments ; and His voice has been 
disregarded. For here is an open understanding, 
but a closed heart, and a rebellious and disobedient 
will. With all the great truths of which mention 
has just been made, he is quite familiar ; his con- 
science is not asleep ; and he is far from happy ; 
knowing himself to be in doubtful and dangerous 
circumstances, but still resolved that he w T ill not, at 
least for the present, relinquish what he loves so 
much better than he loves God. Yet because he 
dares not look down into that abyss, upon the edge 
of which this disobedience places him, he interposes 
some slight screen of moral respectabilities and 
religious observances; he half persuades himself 
that the peril is not imminent, and would rejoice if 
in his inmost heart he could only arrive at some 
settled belief that his duty to himself or to others 
justifies the risk. 

Expostulation is idle here ; the ear that is closed 
against the voice of God will not be open to that of 
man. To such an one it is vain to plead the cause 
of Him to whom all pure intelligences throughout 
the range of unnumbered worlds bow and obey. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



The clear understanding, so strong in argument, 
so ready with illustration, so keen in detecting 
sophistry, is here all darkened and confused. He 
can but feebly strive to defend his false position 
with reasonings of which he more than half perceives 
the hollowness. He can but speak of what society 
— (which means his fragment of society) — and its 
usages demand : for these usages form his gospel, 
—what is written there he will believe and obey. 
He dares not stand alone in wrong doing, but finds 
great sense of security in a crowd. — And yet when 
did their multitude ever protect offenders from the 
wrath of God? It did not amongst the angels 
which sinned ; it did not when the Lord overthrew 
the cities of the plain. — He is, however, glad (for 
his convictions are all on the side of religion) that 
his associates, in breaking down the distinctions 
between right and wrong, and confounding the evil 
with the good, do so only in pursuit of pleasure, 
and not in deliberate and proclaimed hostility to 
God. He has heard, indeed, the solemn command, 
" Thou shalt not follow a multitude to do evil," but 
it is inconvenient to him to believe, and therefore 
he will not believe that this can refer to the brilliant 
throng by which he is surrounded. 

The gracious God, who willeth not the death of 
a sinner, has visited him ere now with the discipline 
of affliction. Heavily it has fallen upon him once 
and again. Under the pressure of his calamity, 
and when other objects were excluded, he turned to 
God. And ever, with restored health or recovered 



XVI HYMNS AND POEMS 



spirits, he went back again to his idol worship : and 
so he has lost the blessing of these visitations, and 
grieved the Holy Spirit, who would have wrought 
in the midst of them. Once more, now — and per- 
haps for the last time — God has come to him with 
the merciful severity of suffering ; and our best hope 
for him is — alas that we should say so ! — that 
whether it be the wasting power of some lingering 
and sore disease, or the ruin of his best earthly 
good — it may not pass away, until he be turned to 
Him whom he might have served in joy and glad- 
ness. For otherwise what remains for him, if it be 
■ not that fearful sentence — only less fearful than the 
final judgment doom — "Ephraim is joined to idols: 
let him alone?" 

In the first of the two instances just given, God's 
service had been neglected from ignorance, from 
pre-occupation of the time and thoughts, and un- 
broken prosperity. 

In the second, there was no such ignorance, nor 
had the sunshine of life been always unclouded. 
The strong love of the world, the hunger and thirst 
after pleasure, as the chief good (next to which the 
love of God had leave to stand, if it could), these, 
stimulated by success in society, and the conscious- 
ness of being supported by the multitude, had led 
away the heart from God; though the desire of 
doing right, when the cost was not too great, had 
never wholly been relinquished. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



Take, however, a third case, differing in many- 
respects from these. It is that in which affliction 
lights upon one who has lived hitherto a life of 
selfish ungodliness, pursuing unchecked a course 
of manifest evil doing. It may be, and too often it 
is so, that affliction drives such a man still further 
from God. But on the other hand it may be the 
beginning of a most blessed change. 

Imagine him to have passed on hitherto through 
life in bold and undoubting confidence, giving him- 
self up to every solicitation of evil which promised 
him present enjoyment; and if thoughts of death 
and eternity ever crossed his mind, putting them 
easily from him. 

Suddenly, at the stroke of this calamity, at the 
first sight perhaps of approaching death, all his 
confidence forsakes him. He cannot shake off the 
fearful thoughts and clinging apprehensions which 
now for the first time have taken hold of him. All 
that sustained him hitherto is gone, he knows not 
how. From the height of that confident security 
where he soared, he feels himself falling suddenly, 
as with a smitten wing, down into utter and irre- 
trievable ruin. 

What has his life been ? In his baptism he was 
made " a member of Christ, a child of God, and an 
inheritor of the kingdom of heaven." His whole 
life has been one continued practical denial of this 
relationship, one practical assertion, begun how 
soon, continued, alas ! how long, that he is his own, 
and that he need render no service to any: ignorant 

B 



XV111 HYMNS AND POEMS 

that no one can be truly his own but as he belongs 
to Christ, " whose service is perfect freedom." In- 
deed his has hitherto been a slavery of the worst 
kind, — " serving divers lusts and pleasures," yet not 
perceiving his chains, but dwelling willingly " in the 
tents of these so miserable felicities." He has lived 
far from God, and has met the efforts of those who 
would have brought him back, perhaps with fierce 
anger, perhaps with careless contempt. As this 
affliction now comes upon him, there is much more 
to awaken in us fear than hope : not from any doubt 
of the infinite mercies of God, but lest these mercies 
should again be despised ; lest the purpose of this 
visitation should not be recognized. So much has 
already been done for him by God, whicn he has 
never acknowledged, so many calls to repentance 
have been slighted ; his heart has grown so hard, 
his alienation from God so confirmed. 

How widely different would it have been with 
him, had he from the beginning cast himself upon the 
covenanted fatherhood of God, taken his assigned 
place in Christ's kingdom, and claimed the continued 
guidance and indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit, 
as a right purchased for him by the precious blood 
of Christ, out of which, were he but faithful, he 
could be kept neither by earth nor hell, — neither 
by men nor devils ! 

Yet if he will even now turn to his Father with a 
penitent heart, he will be met with a gracious wel- 
come. The history of the Prodigal in the Gospel is 
given him for both guidance and encouragement. 






FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING XIX 

His first act was to break away altogether from his 
father, as soon as it became possible to do so; with- 
drawing himself into a far country, and forsaking at 
once his duties and his blessings. There, unre- 
strained, he led his separate and independent life. 
He chose his own ways, following the dictates of 
" the flesh and of the mind." It was not until ad- 
versity fell heavily upon him, and he found himself 
left to the husks which the swine did eat, that " he 
came to himself." 

It may be that God, following this wanderer un- 
seen, has hedged up his way, and kept him from the 
gross and flagrant sins of the Prodigal. But the 
alienation is the same ; alienation from that One to 
whom the deepest love and the most faithful service 
were due. 

If now he be repentant and anxious to return, 
perhaps he feels at the same time crushed to the 
earth by the dreadful apprehension that he may not 
be accepted. Perhaps he is inquiring into his right 
to approach God as a child, seeking with troubled 
heart to get into some state of feeling, some frame 
of mind, or to do some previous act, which may give 
him, as it were, a claim upon God. But it was net 
so with the Prodigal. He knew that he had a 
father to go to ; that thought was as light in his 
darkness, and in his helpless misery he arose and 
went to him as a father. And so must this bewil- 
dered sufferer do. He is no more worthy to be 
called His son, whose family he has thus forsaken. 
Yet let him not be hindered by that secret pride 



XX HYMNS AND POEMS 

which pretends to be humility, or by half-hearted- 
.ness, or by any other cause, from seeking with all 
his soul the fulfilment of those blessed promises 
which he had forgotten or despised — which he had 
never sought to realize, since the day when they 
were visibly sealed to him in baptism. The hum- 
blest station, the lowest room, so that it be only 
appointed by his Father, is all he seeks ; for if he 
is indeed a penitent, he will choose rather to be 
henceforth a door-keeper in the house of his God, 
than to dwell in the tents of the ungodly. But 
coming thus, his Father will meet him and welcome 
him with better blessings than he dared to look for, 
and there will be joy in heaven over this repentant 
sinner. 

Such instances may serve, not indeed to give any 
idea of the vast range over which it pleases God to 
send affliction as His messenger, but to suggest to 
those who have not before considered the subject, 
how these calamities, which fall so frequent around 
us, may each have some special work to do. To 
many, alas ! such visitations come in vain. Some 
persons are quite lost in the mere sense of pain or 
grief. The severity of physical suffering, the rest- 
lessness of its fever, the consciousness of danger 
which it brings, the hurry of spirit which accom- 
panies it, the ill-concealed anxiety of friends, all 
combine to perplex and distract the mind. There 
may be a blind reaching forth after help, but there 
is no real power to grasp or retain it ; and thus a 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING XXI 

fearful lesson is often given us of the peril of de- 
laying until sickness comes that for which sickness 
may only render us less capable. But even when the 
pressure of the trial is less severe, such seasons are, 
to them, times of infinite disquiet and distress, and 
nothing more. The best blessings lie neglected at 
their door. They assent indeed to any amount of 
religious truth which may be brought before them, 
but without the least attempt to make it their own. 
Religion is to them, under such circumstances, a not 
unpleasant lullaby; bat they seek no good from it, 
and find none. 

Others, less absorbed by their troubles, yet fail 
to perceive their need of them. It may be that for 
months, or even years, they are bearing the burthen 
of some sickness, some grievous loss, or some deep 
disappointment, and yet they have not found out 
the secret of all this affliction. They have not 
thought of it as meant to bring them nearer to God, 
but are tempted to complain of the severity of what 
seems to them purposeless suffering. 

Alas ! there are some, who, going still beyond 
this, do not fear to speak of God's visitation as cruel 
and unjust, and even as it were a personal unkind- 
ness. 

Nor, on the other hand, are there wanting those 
who receive affliction with a strange sort of satisfac- 
tion, almost as if it had in it, — what of course none 
of our sufferings ever can have, — some power of 
atonement : and who feel that it is well to have, as 
they will sometimes say, all their punishment in this 



XX11 HYMNS AND POEMS 

life, and thus to pay the penalty of their sins now, 
rather than face the tremendous future. 

Against these various and opposite errors the 
comprehensive injunction seems directed — " My 
son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, 
neither faint when thou art rebuked of Him." And 
they are met by the assurances of God's word, that 
affliction is His discipline; that "whom the Lord 
loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom 
He receiveth :" that it is sent "for our profit, that 
we may be partakers of His holiness :" and that 
it comes from the very same good and gracious 
Lord who has already Himself made satisfaction for 
our sins. It is not therefore to be slighted, — it 
is not objectless, — far less can it be cruel and un- 
just, — neither is it possible that it should have any 
atoning efficacy. 

Meantime there is much that must ever be mys- 
terious to us in the distribution of suffering. We 
perceive that a large portion of it follows upon evil 
doing as its consequence ; as when disease is the 
result of excess, or poverty pursues the spendthrift. 
But much remains for which we cannot thus account. 
It is clearly not apportioned according to any law 
that we can assign of retributive punishment. We 
cannot determine, from a comparison of the cha- 
racters of any two men, the amount of trouble which 
will be sent to each. It is enough for us to know, 
that when God sends affliction to the faithful, it 
has relation not so much to the respective demerits, 
as to the positive necessities and capacities of those 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING XX111 

to whom it is appointed : and thus that He ordains 
for every individual Christian that extent of suffering 
which is best for him, and no more ; combining in 
some inscrutable way all that the highest interests 
of His whole Church requires, with the wisest pro- 
vision for the needs of each of her members. 

But though sorrow and pain " shall work together 
for good to them that love God," yet we cannot 
with confidence expect that they will be made bless- 
ings to those who, in their more prosperous days, 
neglect the training and instruction which He has 
provided for us in our daily duties, in the relations 
of life, through the dispensations of His Providence, 
and by the means of grace. The calls to repentance 
and to holiness, the messages of mercy and love, 
and all the revelations of the mind and will of God, 
are not sent to us in the time of affliction only. 
They are with us continually, although it is often 
in affliction that the ear is readiest to catch their 
tones, when the world's turmoil is hushed around 
the sick-bed. The heavenly voice is often first 
heard in some hour of darkness and perplexity, but 
we must listen for it again and again, amidst all the 
circumstances of ordinary life, if we would have it 
make us wise unto salvation. "He wakeneth 
morning by morning, he wakeneth mine ear to hear 
as the learned." It would well accord with our 
unwatchful and slothful tendencies to take shelter, 
in the day of prosperity, under another belief, and 
to say that as trouble, which comes to all, must 
some time come to us, then, when it does come, 



XXIV HYMNS AND POEMS 

will be just the time for religious progress, and 
meanwhile " a little sleep, a little slumber, a little 
folding of the hands to sleep." 

Man's work is commonly done by interrupted 
efforts and sudden puttings forth of visible endea- 
vour. But amidst the works of God all is steady, 
continual progression; "first the blade, then the 
ear, then the full corn in the ear." Indeed, the 
Divine injunction, " Grow in grace," and many 
others in Holy Scripture, bring before us these 
analogies of nature, as if to lead us to an imitation, 
in our spiritual life, of the Divine pattern. But it 
is this which is so difficult : any sacrifice, any labour 
which, once performed, we could rest from and 
have done with, we are ready for ; but we are not 
ready for this daily, never-ending task. 

But if we may not regard the time of affliction or 
trial as the only time in which we are to look for 
Divine instruction, so it is most dangerous to slight 
or put from us the good which such a season is 
meant to bring. We may persuade ourselves that 
there is little to be done then but to learn the one 
lesson of endurance ; and that if we have but passed 
through our grief or sickness with few complainings, 
we are as much benefited as we could be by it. Yet 
this were but a scanty advantage, compared with 
those which we are encouraged to expect. Let us 
form a far larger and worthier estimate of what God 
has prepared for us in this visitation ; of what we 
should long for, and strive after, as its result. — For 
affliction is meant to discipline the whole man ; to 






FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING XXV 

bring out the several graces of the Christian cha- 
racter, — "tribulation working patience," not as a 
single and separate work, but in such wise that " pa- 
tience worketh experience, and experience hope, 
and hope maketh not ashamed, because the love of 
God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Spirit 
which is given us." What a harvest of blessings 
this one passage of Scripture exhibits to us as spring- 
ing from affliction : — and indeed is it not written, 
that " afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruits of 
righteousness to them that are exercised thereby?" 
Consider also David's testimony: " Before I was 
afflicted I went astray, but now have I kept Thy 
word." How much is there not implied in this, of 
subsequent persevering diligence, of daily self-denial 
and watchfulness, of faithful service, of holy 
obedience. Surely it is most evident that the 
training of affliction is meant to produce in us great 
and lasting results. 

Has then affliction fallen upon you ? — Say first, 
" ' It is the Lord. Let Him do what seemeth Him 
good.' It is the Lord. And with Him are infinite 
wisdom, power, and love ; therefore let Him do what 
seemeth Himgood : Hebest — nay, He alone — knows 
what to do for and with me." — We are in danger at 
such times of looking away from Him, and thinking 
only of second causes, greatly disquieting ourselves 
by doing so. We reflect with bitter anguish, that 
but for some untoward circumstance, some pre- 
caution neglected, some one little thing done or left 
undone, all might now be well with us. Vain 



XXVI HYMNS AND POEMS 

thoughts, — which yet perseveringly return to haunt 
us : surely most vain : for it is the good and merci- 
ful Lord who has appointed the trial, and He might 
as easily have brought it about in any one of a 
thousand other ways. 

It is the Lord : — and remember how in the night- 
storm on the sea, when the disciples' hearts failed 
them for fear of that dim mysterious form which 
drew near, half hidden by the darkness, the voice 
of their Master spoke instant peace : " It is I, be 
not afraid." If you indeed know who it is that 
cometh to you upon the waves of these afflictions, 
amidst the darkness of this trial, you will not be 
dismayed. 

You are not forbidden the natural outpouring of 
sorrow: for "Jesus wept." What an unspeakable 
blessing in the day of adversity to know that our 
Lord, who is very and Eternal God, is also most 
truly man ; that He is acquainted with grief, having 
taken it to His bosom for long years that He might 
experience what it was ; and is so touched with a 
feeling of our infirmities, that there is not a throb 
of anguish, not a pang of mental or physical pain, 
which we may not bring to Him for sympathy. He 
knows all, He has felt all, He can heal all. 

The world, after its fashion, will offer consolation, 
and tell you that others suffer still more, and that 
things might have been worse; some greater evil 
might have befallen you. These are in themselves 
but comfortless thoughts, and there is nothing help- 
ful in the strange unconscious half-athesim, from 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



which they often spring ; as if man was the plaything 
of blind destiny, instead of a being experiencing the 
love and compassion of the merciful God. But you 
will find a Christian meaning for what is thus igno- 
rantly said, and will mark with gratitude how the 
goodness of our blessed Lord has indeed shielded 
you from the many aggravations which might have 
accompanied your sorrow, and how He has provided 
for you many unexpected alleviations instead. 

Numberless circumstances, each perhaps small in 
itself, but full of meaning, will combine to show you, 
that you are not forsaken in this time of trial. Many 
of God's promises, too, will now seem as if they had 
been written especially for your consolation. Some 
of these will assure you of His presence during 
affliction : — " When thou passest through the waters 
I will be with thee ; and through the rivers, they 
shall not overflow thee : when thou walkest through 
the fire thou shalt not be burned \ neither shall the 
flame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord thy 
God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour." 1 — Others 
will direct you to the true source of strength : " Cast 
thy burthen upon the Lord, and He shall sustain 
thee." 2 "He giveth power to the faint; to them that 
have no might He increaseth strength :" 3 "Come 
unto Me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and 
I will give you rest." 4 — Some will remind you of 
the parental character of God : " Like as a father 
pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that 

1 Is. xliii. 2. 2 p s . lv. 22. 3 Is. xl. 29. 

4 St. Matt. xi. 28. 



XXV111 HYMNS AND POEMS 

fear Him. For He knoweth our frame; He re- 
membereth that we are dust." 1 Others will teach 
you that it is the very love whereby you were at the 
first adopted into His family that now moves Him 
to employ this needful discipline : — " Whom the 
Lord loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every 
son whom He receiveth." 2 

Your chiefest and most earnest desire will be to 
gain from this trial, whatever it may be, all the good 
which it is meant to convey. God forbid that it 
should pass away without having accomplished its 
purpose. For such visitations of affliction never 
leave any man exactly where he was before. Either 
they advance him on his heavenward way, teach 
him to live above the world's slavery, and nerve him 
for his daily conflicts : or else, when slighted, they 
render his condition far less hopeful ; the chains of 
earth press more heavily, and the heart sinks down 
into a deeper slumber than ever. It is thus that 
afflictions are such turning-points in a life's history; 
to many they are most abundantly blessed; the 
holiest and the best are, through God's grace, made 
better by them : to many, alas ! they are but occa- 
sions of still further alienation from God. 

But you will inquire what, under these circum- 
stances of trial, you are to do ; what are the means 
by which you are to seek for the blessings you desire 
to obtain. For you clearly perceive that the mere 
presence of this trial cannot possibly benefit or bless 
you, but that it must be in some way made use of. 

1 Ps. ciii. 13, 14. 2 Heb. xii. 5, 6. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



First, then, let it be to you an occasion of ap- 
proaching to God with a quickened diligence and a 
more confiding love. Cultivate habits of devotion ; 
so essential to the peace and health of your soul. 
Pray much and earnestly ; that He would graciously 
" sanctify this His fatherly correction to you," — that 
He would " renew in you whatsoever hath been de- 
cayed by the fraud and malice of the devil, or by 
your own carnal will and frailness," — that while you 
live "you may live to Him, and be an instrument 
of His glory, by serving Him faithfully, and doing 
good in your generation," — that He may give you 
"a right understanding of yourself, and of His 
threats and promises," — that He may be Himself 
a your defence, and make you know and feel that 
there is none other name under heaven given to 
man, in whom and through whom you may receive 
health and salvation, but only the name of our Lord 
Jesus Christ." 1 

The languor and weariness of extreme illness will 
sometimes form a serious hindrance to frequent and 
collected prayer. Yet this should be earnestly com- 
bated with, and may often in a great measure be 
overcome. Where the exhaustion is very great, and 
the powers of speech and almost of connected 
thought really fail, God will graciously accept, for 
prayer, the looking of the heart towards Him ; for 
" He knoweth our frame, He remembereth that we 
are but dust." 

Go continually to the blessed word of God for 

1 Prayer Book. Visitation of the Sick. 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



guidance and consolation : let it be " a lantern to 
your feet, and a light unto your path." Be a fre- 
quent and faithful partaker of the Holy Eucharist, 
to " the strengthening and refreshing of your soul." 
If you are debarred by sickness or infirmity from 
frequenting the public services of the Church, yet 
be often in spirit with those who go up to the 
house of the Lord, following them with your prayers 
and sympathy. You are not forgotten there, where 
remembrance is made before God of the weariness 
of the bed of pain, and the loneliness of the aching 
heart. For you supplication is made in those 
prayers which are offered up for all "who are 
afflicted and distressed in mind, body, or estate ;" 
for all " that are in danger, necessity, or tribulation;" 
for all " who are in trouble, sorrow, need, sickness, 
or any other adversity." 

Meantime you will remember to what end these 
means are designed to conduct you. You will then 
most highly appreciate them, when you know them 
but as means ; when you feel that sacraments, and 
prayers, j.nd God's word, will fail utterly of their 
object if they do not produce in you, through the 
blessed Spirit working in and by them, conformity 
of heart and life to the holy will of God. 

This is the great purpose to be accomplished in 
each one of us. For this were we born into the 
world ; for this have we been kept in life hitherto ; 
for this our Lord Jesus Christ gave Himself for us, 
that "He might purify to Himself a peculiar people, 
zealous of good works;" that " denying ungodliness 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



and worldly lusts, we might live soberly, righteously, 
and godly in this present world ;" that being justi- 
fied for His merit sake, we might, as becomes His 
ransomed people, " glorify God in our body, and 
in our spirit, which are God's." 

But you ask how, in the sick chamber to which, 
it may be, you are confined — how, in the narrow 
span which, perhaps, is all that is left to you of life, 
you can thus glorify God. 

If yours is a truly teachable spirit, this question 
will be soon answered. You will soon learn that 
sickness and sorrow bring with them peculiar duties 
and responsibilities. He to whom you belong will 
give you not only patience to suffer, but strength 
to do : and as this strength increases, your sphere 
of action will enlarge itself around you. In pro- 
tracted sickness how many are the trials through 
which you have to pass ; how many victories over 
self you have to win. How much is there for 
which your sick room is perhaps the very fittest 
place, with the multiplied occasions which it affords 
for the full exercise of Faith, and Hope, and 
Love. 

For this is not, in truth, a narrow sphere in 
which God has placed you. You know how that 
some even of the lowest forms of heathenism wit- 
ness to the great truth, that man's heart is ever 
craving for union with a nature higher than his 
own : and you know too, that the necessity, the 
provision for, and the conditions of this union 
form the main subject of God's revelation to man. 



XXX11 HYMNS AND POEMS 

If you, on that bed of suffering, are learning by ex- 
perience the full blessing of this unspeakable union, 
you will not complain that your circle of privilege 
and duty is too limited. You are not left there 
alone ; some better portion is yours than the cold 
abstractions of a false philosophy, which, because 
it has caught some faint and broken echoes of the 
Christian truth, still speaks of goodness, virtue, and 
purity, but which never leads man to Him who is 
the Good, the Holy, and the Pure; and which 
cannot offer even the poorest substitute for the 
presence of that living Friend, union and com- 
munion with whom is the deepest reality of the 
Christian life. 

Perhaps those who are suffering from protracted 
sickness have most need to watch against that cold 
exclusive temper of mind which would tempt them 
to put away every thing which does not seem to 
bear directly on their own separate religious con- 
dition. Such a temper would greatly impede your 
progress, and weaken your spiritual life ; while it 
would rob you of that true fellowship with the 
family of Christ, for which the Church, as we have 
already seen, has made provision in her special re- 
membrances of you and of your sufferings ; and 
would close your heart against her loving sympathy. 
Be, on the contrary, drawn out of yourself towards 
others, participate in their interests, pray for them 
and seek their good, and set yourself to lessen the 
weight of sin and suffering around you. Doubtless 
you can do much to benefit and bless your brethren ; 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING XXX111 

by your example, by your influence, by direct or 
indirect teaching, by a right use of money — perhaps 
by ways which do not discover themselves to you, 
until you have made some resolute advance in this 
path of duty. However limited your range may be 
(the more limited from the circumstances of your 
broken health), yet you will always find some 
within your reach to whom you may exhibit this 
gracious and loving spirit ; your own immediate 
family, the friends who visit your sick chamber, the 
servants who minister to your wants. Assume no 
functions, undertake no duties beyond those which 
belong to " that state of life to which it has pleased 
God to call you." But in that state you will find, 
if you seek, abundant employment. Such engage- 
ments will supply the best defence against the 
many forms of selfishness which beset the hours of 
sickness ; and that some preservative is then 
needed, they who watch over their hearts under 
such circumstances can abundantly testify. In 
these pursuits you will find a source of true and 
sustained cheerfulness, most unlike that false and 
transient excitement with which the world seeks 
to dissipate the thoughts of the sorrowful and 
suffering. 

But, whether doing or enduring, beware of fancy- 
ing that you have a fund of faith, or hope, or 
patience, laid up within, to which you can always 
resort, and independent of Him who supplies by 
His Spirit daily strength to His people. For in the 
moment that you look from Him to yourself, you 
c 



XXXIV HYMNS AND POEMS 

will find yourself left alone with impatience and 
distrust, and ready to sink under the burthen of 
those cares which He would have borne for you. 

Life to others is very bright, notwithstanding 
your distress. Let not the contrast between their 
condition and your own hinder your being cheered 
by the happiness around you. If God is with you 
in your sorrow, pray that He may be with them in 
their joy. If some have wept with you who weep, 
endeavour on your part to rejoice with them that 
do rejoice. It may cost you at first a struggle be- 
fore you can fully sympathize in their happiness. 
But the effort will daily become less : let it not be 
seen of men, and thus become poisoned by that 
selfish littleness which evermore claims notice of 
the sacrifices it makes. 

Nor should we close our hearts against the mar- 
vellous beauty of God's creation which lies around 
us. The clouds of sorrow must not so come down 
upon us as utterly to obscure that reflexion of Him 
which yet is left to us here. The perfection of its 
first days is indeed gone, and with fallen man it 
"groaneth and travaileth together" in mysterious 
sympathy. But it is still most beautiful. We may 
neither form a fanciful mock-religion for ourselves 
out of our admiration for " the things that are seen," 
which cannot of course satisfy the needs of an im- 
mortal spirit ; nor yet turn coldly away from God's 
great works. Ours should be, in this, the safer 
path of humility and faith ; and we should rejoice 
in them as what our Master's hands have made. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



They are evidences of His power, and witnesses of 
His love ; and it is good for us to live under their 
calming and elevating influences. 

Many of those who will read these pages have 
already, I trust, gained the truest and best blessings 
from the afflictions which have been sent to them. 
If this be your case, how full evgn this present time 
is of encouragement and of blessing. Could you 
formerly have imagined that under these circum- 
stances of pain and grief — when all around is dark 
— all within could ever be so full of light ? True 
to His promises, God is now blessing you with that 
peace which passeth all understanding, and which 
abides with you undiminished amidst all the vicissi- 
tudes of life. 

Are you sometimes filled with longings to depart 
— to leave all this suffering behind, and to pass 
from the strife of the battle-field to the rest of the 
victors ? Yet remember that you are " immortal till 
your work is done." One can imagine what it must 
be for you, lying now at the very gates of Paradise, 
to be obliged to take up again the burthen of life, 
and to look forward to long years here, amongst us 
whose sky is so often dimmed by temptation, grief, 
and weariness. But do not be discouraged ; for if 
you are giving yourself truly to the service of God, 
your Lord shall lead you, and the wilderness and 
the solitary place shall be gladdened by His pre- 
sence. In joy and in grief you shall find Him 
near; your strength in temptation, your shield in 



XXXVI HYMNS AND POEMS 

danger, your guide in difficulty. You long now 
to be with Him; but all along the journey of life 
He will be with you — your unseen but ever-present 
Defence. 

Wait then His time in whose unchangeable faith- 
fulness is all your trust. Consider the immeasurable 
depths of His wisdom. You cannot assign the limits 
of time, place, or circumstance, within which He 
may design to work His sovereign will in you. 
After marvelling long at the character and duration 
of this trial, perhaps a ray of light may touch some 
object before unnoticed, and reveal all that has been 
hitherto hidden in such darkness. Can you say that 
you have yet received the full measure of blessing 
which this affliction was designed to bring ? Per- 
haps the well-being of others depends, far more than 
you can know or even imagine, on the prolongation 
of this trial to you ; since one of the strongest 
evidences of the reality and power of religion is seen 
in the constancy of the faithful in the midst of suf- 
fering, and in the good which God brings for them 
out of such seeming evil. 

We are encompassed by many living witnesses in 
the Church, who, having long endured tribulation, 
can bear testimony to the power of His sustaining 
love now, from the midst of their trials; while 
others, who once gave their testimony to the same 
truth, have been one by one called away to exchange 
that condition in which they received from their 
Lord sympathy in suffering, for that in which they 
are made partakers of His joy. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING XXXV11 

Our Lord is carrying on this work from age to 
age before the eyes of the Church. Doubtless 
there are some to whom you are thus appointed as 
a witness : — to but few perhaps — yet if but to one, 
be thankful that to you it is assigned to strengthen 
that one in the faith. 

If this book should help you to interpret truly the 
meaning of God's afflictive dispensations, teaching 
you in any measure their nature, purposes, and 
effects ; and leading you to look through their out- 
ward show of mere pain and loss to their inner signi- 
ficance and real character — if thus you are confirmed 
in an humble, holy confidence in God, and are 
quickened to a more diligent following of Him — if 
you perceive that while every trial is attended by its 
peculiar duties and responsibilities, it brings with 
it heavenly blessings also; and if the practical 
knowledge of these truths should lead you, by His 
grace, to a closer and more abiding union with Him, 
then indeed the object of these pages will have been 
fully accomplished. May He graciously allow this 
blessed issue. May your heart be cheered and en- 
couraged by His promises, and may you look beyond 
these hours of trial to the hope set before you in the 
Gospel, The Lord is indeed at hand. He is re- 
turning to His waiting Church. We know neither 
the day nor the hour — but He brings with Him 
everlasting joy for all them that love His appearing. 
" I heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, Be- 
hold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He 
will dwell with them, and they shall be His people, 



XXXV111 HYMNS AND POEMS 

and God Himself shall be with them, and be their 
God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their 
eyes ; and there shall be no more death, neither 
sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more 
pain : for the former things are passed away." 

T. V. FOSBERY. 

Westcliffe, Isle of Wight, 
April iqth, 1844. 



In preparing the following Hymns and Poems for 
the use of the Sick and Suffering, it was natural to 
turn to what the Church had done for her afflicted 
members, and to try whether the services which she 
has provided for their benefit could not, at least in 
part, be made available in connexion with this 
Volume of Sacred Poetry. 

The Offices for the Visitation and Communion of 
the Sick, in the Prayer Book, are conceived in a 
spirit of such true sympathy with the suffering, and 
so combine the deepest devotion with the wisest and 
most faithful instruction, as to render them in sick- 
ness and sorrow inestimably precious. The exhor- 
tations and prayers in the former of these services 
are here placed, in their due order, one before every 
section into which the volume is divided ; and a 
sentence, taken from this, forms the heading to 
each of the several poems contained in the section. 
These sentences give to the poems remarkable sig- 
nificance and definiteness of application. 

The Rubrics, which are unusually full and in- 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING XXXIX 

structive, — the Absolution, — and the Communion 
Service, all which necessarily imply the presence of 
the minister, are not thus employed. 

Those who may first learn, perhaps in solitude, 
from these pages, the great blessing provided for 
them in the Service for the Visitation of the Sick, 
will be, I trust, amongst the most desirous, as cer- 
tainly they will be the best prepared, to avail them- 
selves, when they can do so, of the presence and 
ministrations of such as are " over them in the Lord" 
— ministering to them in the words or in the spirit 
of this beautiful Service, as their respective neces- 
sities may require. 

In compiling this volume, I have but assisted one 
to whom it owes its chief value, and who " having 
learned from the Service for the Visitation of the Sick 
the meaning and value of sickness, earnestly desires 
to recommend the frequent perusal of that Service 
to the sick and suffering members of Christ's body." 

There are here two hundred and twenty-six sepa- 
rate pieces. Of this number ninety-three are by 
writers who lived prior to the eighteenth century : 
the rest are modern. The poems of George Herbert, 
by which, says Walton, " he hath comforted and 
raised many a dejected and discomposed soul," are 
peculiarly suitable for the purposes of this work. 
But as he is the best known of all the older sacred 
poets, it did not seem desirable to insert very many 
of his poems. There are accordingly only fourteen 
in this volume, and to those best acquainted with 
their value this will seem but a small number. 



xl HYMNS AND POEMS 

From the works of Henry Vaughan nineteen 
poems have been selected. This writer, a few of 
whose poems have of late years been reprinted in 
different collections, deserves to be far better known. 
He was born on the banks of the Usk, in Brecknock- 
shire, in 162 1 ; and because that part of Wales was 
anciently peopled by the Silures, he was quaintly 
styled the Silurist. Though then very young, he 
was engaged in the study of the law in London, at 
the breaking out of the great rebellion. But he was 
immediately taken home by his friends, and there 
in tranquil retirement "he followed the pleasant 
paths of poetry and philology." He soon exchanged 
the law for physic, in which he became eminently 
skilled, and spent the greater part of his useful and 
happy life near his native place in Brecknockshire, 
where he died in 1695. 

Vaughan ever held the memory of George Herbert 
in affectionate reverence. He could have known 
him only by his works, as Herbert died when 
Vaughan was very young ; but in the preface to one 
of his books, speaking of the success of the former 
in purifying the stream of song, he calls him " the 
blessed man, Mr. George Herbert; — whose holy 
life and verse," he adds, " gained many pious con- 
verts, of whom I am the least." 

The sacred poetry of the age of Herbert and 
Vaughan is becoming daily better known, and more 
truly appreciated. Its occasional conceits and ob- 
scurity do not hinder men from acknowledging its 
fulness, purity, and truth. To some few, however, 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING xli 

this old poetry may seem at first harsh and strange — 
their taste having been formed in a different school. 
Such readers will be amply repaid for whatever effort 
it may cost them to grapple with its first difficulties. 

There is much and precious instruction to be 
gathered amongst these old poems. They have a 
strength and depth in them which many more grace- 
ful verses have not. They enshrine thoughts worthy 
to be treasured up in the heart, instead of feebly 
expressing — with much reiteration — what may be 
called the sentimentality of religion. The love of 
God was not to these men a passing emotion; it 
was their principle of life. They and their works 
should be had in honour amongst us. 

The poems of Herbert in this volume are re- 
printed from the edition of 1641, but the modern 
spelling of later editions has been followed. 

Many of Vaughan's poems were transcribed at 
first from the copy of the first edition (1650) of his 
"Silex Scintillans, or Sacred Poetry and Private 
Ejaculations," in the British Museum Library; but 
the second, which appeared in his lifetime (1655), 
and is probably the more correct, and which also 
contains about fifty additional poems, has since been 
consulted ; for which purpose it was kindly lent by 
its possessor, the Rev. H. F. Lyte. It is a rare and 
valuable book. The old spelling has here been re- 
tained, except where there seemed any risk of its 
obscuring the sense. 

Nothing has been taken from the writings of any 
living English poet without the author's express 



xlii HYMNS AND POEMS 

permission, which has always been most readily and 
kindly granted. Those poems which have not be- 
fore been published are distinguished by an asterisk 
prefixed to each. Two of them, however, viz., those 
at pp. 41 and 123, had already been printed for 
private circulation. 

Where only part of a short poem has been re- 
tained, the word " Part" is prefixed to the portion 
thus selected. But no liberty has been taken with 
the poetry itself. The words of the several writers 
(in the case of some living authors with their latest 
corrections) have been faithfully given in every 
instance. Not one word in the whole volume has 
been knowingly and wilfully altered. 

In a very few instances it was found necessary to 
trust, at least for the present, to compilations ; but 
wherever it was possible, the best editions of the 
author's works have been consulted. 

T. V. F. 

NOTE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 

To the two hundred and twenty-six pieces of the 
former edition, all of which are here retained, seven 
others have been added, which will be found at pp. 
253, 257, 260, 262, 266, 270, 301. The work has 
been carefully revised, and a few changes, chiefly 
verbal, have been made in the introductory address. 

T. V. F. 

SUNNINGDALE, 

May 2, 1850. 






HYMNS AND POEMS 
peate be to tljt* rjonge, anb to ail tfyat fctoell in it 

Remember not, florb, our iniquities, nor tl)e 
iniquities of our forefathers : Ji>pare us, goob 
|Dor&, spare Sfrjg people, xorjom STI)otx Ijast refceemeb 
rattl) S^g most precious bloob, anti be not angrg 
tottl) us for euer, 

llnstoer, $pare us, goob Jortu 

?|eare &e to tfjis fjouse, anil to all tljat tifoell in it. 
PEACE. 

Henry Vaughan. 

MY soul, there is a country 
Afar beyond the stars, 
Where stands a winged sentry 

All skilful in the wars. 
There, above noise and danger, 

Sweet Peace sits crowned with smiles, 
And One born in a manger 
Commands the beauteous files. 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



He is thy gracious friend, 

And (0 my soul, awake !) 
Did in pure love descend, 

To die here for thy sake. 
It thou canst get but thither, 

There grows the flower of peace, 
The rose that cannot wither, 

Thy fortress and thy ease. 
Leave then thy foolish ranges ; 

For none can thee secure, 
But One, who never changes, 

Thy God, thy Life, thy Cure. 



Peace be ta tfjfe fjottse, anti to all tfjat Ufoell in it 

%s. 

THE more by thought thou leav'st the crowd 
behind, 
Draw near by deeper love to all thy kind ; 
So shall thy heart in lowly peace be still, 
And earthly wisdom serve a Heavenly will. 



% s. 

O holier truth has reached us from above 
Than this, Love errs not but by want of 
Love. 



N 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



$tm it to tfjts Jjottse, anil to all tfjat toll fit it* 

J. S. Monsell. 

BIRDS have their quiet nest, 
Foxes their holes, and man his peaceful bed ; 
All creatures have their rest, — 
But Jesus had not where to lay His head. 

Winds have their hour of calm, 
And waves, to slumber on the voiceless deep : 

Eve hath its breath of balm, 
To hush all senses and all sounds to sleep. 

The wild deer hath his lair, 
The homeward flocks the shelter of their shed ; 

All have their rest from care, — 
But Jesus had not where to lay His head. 

And yet He came to give 
The weary and the heavy-laden rest ; 

To bid the sinner live, 
And soothe our griefs to slumber on His breast. 

What then am I, my God, 
Permitted thus the paths of peace to tread ? 

Peace, purchased by the blood 
Of Him who had not where to lay His head ! 

I, who once made Him grieve ; 
I, who once bid His gentle spirit mourn ; 

Whose hand essayed to weave 
For His meek brow the cruel crown of thorn : — 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



O why should I have peace ? 
Why ? but for that unchanged, undying love, 

Which would not, could not cease, 
Until it made me heir of joys above. 

Yes ! but for pardoning grace, 
I feel I never should in glory see 

The brightness of that face, 
That once was pale and agonized for me ! 

Let the birds seek their nest, 
Foxes their holes, and man his peaceful bed ; 

Come, Saviour, in my breast 
Deign to repose Thine oft rejected head ! 

Come ! give me rest, and take 
The only rest on earth Thou lovest, — within 

A heart, that for Thy sake 
Lies bleeding, broken, penitent for sin. 



Iftememto not, 3LorK, ottr iniquities* 
SIGHS AND GROANS. 

George Herbert. 

ODO not use me 
After my sins ! look not on my desert, 
But on Thy glory ; then Thou wilt reform, 
And not refuse me. For Thou only art 
The mighty God ; but I, a silly worm ; 
O do not bruise me ! 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



O do not urge me ! 
For what account can Thy ill steward make ? 

I have abused Thy stock, destroyed Thy woods, 
Sucked all Thy magazines. My head did ache 
Till it found out how to consume Thy goods ; 
O do not scourge me ! 

O do not blind me ! 
I have deserved that an Egyptian night 

Should thicken all my powers, because my lust 
Hath still sewed fig-leaves to exclude Thy light. 
But I am frailty, and already dust ; 
O do not grind me ! 

O do not fill me 
With the turned vial of Thy bitter wrath • 

For Thou hast other vessels, full of blood, 
A part whereof my Saviour emptied hath, 

Even unto death. Since He died for my good, 
O do not kill me ! 

But O reprieve me ! 
For Thou hast life and death at Thy command ; 

Thou art both Judge and Saviour, Feast and Rod, 
Cordial and Corrosive. Put not Thy hand 
Into the bitter box ; but, O my God, 
My God, relieve me ! 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



Iftememta not, 3LorU, our iniquities* 
LAMENTATION OF A SINNER. 

" Hymns of the Primitive Church' 

OLORD, turn not Thy face away 
From him that lies prostrate, 
Lamenting sore his sinful life, 
Before Thy mercy-gate, — 

Which Thou dost open wide to those 
Who do lament their sin : 

shut it not against me, Lord, 
But let me enter in. 

Call me not to a strict account 

How I have lived here ; 
For then I know right well, O Lord, 

How vile I shall appear. 

1 need not to confess my life ; 

For surely Thou canst tell 
What I have been : and what I am 
Thou knowest very well. 

O Lord, I need not to repeat 

What I do beg and crave ; 
For Thou dost know before I ask, 

The thing that I would have. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



Mercy, good Lord, mercy I ask, 
This is the total sum : 

For mercy, Lord, is all my suit ; 
let Thy mercy come. 



Sftememfrer not, ILorXr, nut iniquities, 
$£or tfje iniquities of our forefathers* 

REPENTANCE. 

George Herbert. 



L< 



ORD, I confess my sin is great ; 
Great is my sin. O gently treat 
With Thy quick flower, Thy momentary bloom ! 
Whose life, still pressing, 
Is one undressing, 
A steady aiming at a tomb. 

Man's age is two hours' work, or three ; 
Each day doth round about us see. 
Thus are we to delights : but we are all 
To sorrows old, 
If life be told 
From what life feeleth, Adam's fall. 

O let thy height of mercy then 
Compassionate short-breathed men. 
Cut me not off for my most foul transgression : 
I do confess 
My foolishness : 
My God, accept of my confession. 

D 



8 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Sweeten, at length, this bitter bowl, 
Which Thou hast poured into my soul : 
Thy wormwood turn to health; winds to fair 
weather ; 

For if Thou stay, 
I and this day, 
As we did rise, we die, together. 

When Thou for sin rebukest man, 
Forthwith he waxeth woe and wan : 
Bitterness fills our bowels ; all our hearts 
Pine and decay, 
And drop away, 
And carry with them the other parts. 

But Thou wilt sin and grief destroy ; 
That so the broken bones may joy, 
And tune together in a well-set song, 
Full of His praises 
Who dead men raises. — 
•Fractures well cured make us more strong. 



f>t n* prag. 

|Lorb, fyane mereg upon n$. 

(Iljrigt, fyane mercg npon tig. 

ILorb, Ijane mercg ttpon ng. 
@nr /atljer, tofyicl) art in Heaven, Hallomeb 
be Sfljg Jtame. ©fyg liingbom tome, Sfl)g to ill 
be bone in eartf), |t* it ig in Heauen. (Sine ng 
tljig bag onr bailg breab. |inb forgiue tt^ onr 
tregpaggeg, |t* toe forgioe tl)em tljat tre0pa££ 
against u$. |tnb leab n# not into temptation : 
ffot beliner n# from entL Jlmen. 



THE SHORTER LITANY. 

Jttinigter. © ILorb, gane ©!)g gernant ; 
Itngmer. Wtt)it\) pnttet!) \)'x$ tmgt in Styee. 
JE. $enb l)im Ijeip from ©l)g fyolg place ; 
|t. |tnb enermore migljtiig befenb l)im. 
JE. f>t tK)e enemg ljat>e no abnantage of l)im ; 
|t. jKor ttje toickeb approach to Iqnxt I)im. 
JE. |ge nnto l)im, © JLorb, a strong totoer, 
|t. Jrom tlje face of I)ig enemg. 
JE. © florb, I)ear onr pragerg. 
|t. |tnb let onr erg come nnto Styee. 



10 HYMNS AND POEMS 



R. C. Trench. 

LORD, what a change within us one short hour 
Spent in Thy presence will prevail to make, 
What heavy burdens from our bosoms take, 
What parched grounds refresh, as with a shower ! 
We kneel, and all around us seems to lower \ 
We rise, and all, the distant and the near, 
Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear ; 
We kneel, how weak, we rise, how full of power. 
Why therefore should we do ourselves this wrong, 
Or others — that we are not always strong, 
That we are ever overborne with care, 
That we should ever weak or heartless be, 
Anxious or troubled, when with us is prayer, 
And joy and strength and courage are with Thee ? 



3Let tts pra|K 

PRAYER. 

Luke xxii. 46. 



E.M. 



ART thou a pilgrim and alone ? 
Far from the home once called thine own ? 
From friendship's faithful bosom wrested, 
In stranger hands thy comforts vested, 
Thy life a cheerless wintry day 
Unlit by sunshine ? — Rise and pray ! 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 1 

Smiled on thee once the bliss of earth, 
And glittering joys of transient worth ? 
Hast thou adored some idol shrine, 
Or bent has many a knee at thine ? 
Faded these creatures of a day, 
What hast thou left ? — Arise and pray ! 

Or hast thou, driven by deepest woe, 
Thy soul's sure refuge learned to know ? 
And every storm of life would meet 
Beneath the sheltering Mercy-Seat ? 
Whether in youth, or life's decay, 
Thy lot is blest — thou lovest to pray ? 

But haply thou, even thou hast found 

Religion's consecrated ground 

With sorrows and with snares beset, 

Which, though the Almighty Sufferer met 

To conquer, we must yet obey 

His welcome mandate — Rise and prav ! 

O mournful lot to mortals given, 

Might not the winged thought to Heaven 

Amidst opposing myriads rise 

To claim its refuge in the skies ! 

" Where is thy God ? " whilst mockers say, 

To Him mounts up the soul to pray ! 

Though, mingled in one bitter draught, 
Thou every earthly woe hast quaffed ; 



12 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Around, though enemies prevail, 

And darts from cherished friends assail ; 

These but in image faint pourtray 

His griefs, who bids thee rise and pray ! 

Ev'n should that direst hour be thine, 
When in the darkening Heavens no sign 
Appears ; — but thou in combat fell 
Must meet the adverse hosts of hell, 
O never cast the hope away, 
While thou canst lift thy heart to pray. 

With tears, with bitterest agony 

The Saviour wrestled, Soul ! for thee, 

Ere He could all-triumphant rise 

To plead the accepted sacrifice ; 

So, till the world shall pass away, 

Shall stand His words — " Arise and pray ! " 



PRAYER. 

Cowper. 

WHAT various hindrances we meet 
In coming to a mercy-seat ! 
Yet who that knows the worth of prayer, 
But wishes to be often there ? 

Prayer makes the darkened cloud withdraw, 
Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw, 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 13 

Gives exercise to faith and love, 
Brings every blessing from above. 

Restraining prayer, we cease to fight ; 
Prayer makes the Christian's armour bright ; 
And Satan trembles when he sees 
The weakest saint upon his knees. 

While Moses stood with arms spread wide, 
Success was found on Israel's side ; 
But when through weariness they failed, 
That moment Amalek prevailed. 1 

Have you no words ? O think again, 
Words flow apace when you complain, 
And fill your fellow-creature's ear 
With the sad tale of all your care. 

Were half the breath thus vainly spent, 
To heaven in supplication sent, 
Your cheerful song would oftener be, — 
" Hear what the Lord hath done for me ! " 

1 Exod. xvii. 11, 12. 



14 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Hortf, fjafo mtxtg upon us* 

(Gtyrtst, ftafo mercg uputt us. 
itortr, fyabe meres upon us. 

DIVINE EJACULATION. 

John Quarles. 

GREAT God, whose sceptre rules the earth, 
Distil Thy fear into my heart, 
That being rapt with holy mirth 

I may proclaim how good Thou art ; 
Open my lips, that I may sing 
Full praises to my God, my King. 

Great God, Thy garden is defaced, 

The weeds thrive there, Thy flowers decay ; 
O call to mind Thy promise past, 
Restore Thou them, cut these away : 
Till then let not the weeds have power 
To starve or stint the poorest flower. 

In all extremes, Lord, Thou art still 

The Mount whereto my hopes do flee ; 
O make my soul detest all ill, 

Because so much abhorred by Thee : 
Lord, let Thy gracious trials show 
That I am just, or make me so. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 5 

Shall mountain, desert, beast, and tree, 

Yield to that heavenly voice of Thine \ 
And shall that voice not startle me, 

Nor stir this stone — this heart of mine ? 
No, Lord, till Thou new-bore mine ear, 
Thy voice is lost, I cannot hear. 

Fountain of Light and living Breath, 

Whose mercies never fail nor fade * 
Fill me with Life that hath no death, 
Fill me with Light that hath no shade ; 
Appoint the remnant of my days 
To see Thy power, and sing Thy praise. 

Lord God of gods — before whose throne 

Stand storms and fire ! O what shall we 
Return to Heaven, that is our own, 
When all the world belongs to Thee ? 
We have no offering to impart, " 
But praises, and a wounded heart. 

O Thou that sitt'st in Heaven, and seest 

My deeds without, my thoughts within — 
Be Thou my Prince, be Thou my Priest, 
Command my soul, and cure my sin : 
How bitter my afflictions be 
I care not, so I rise to Thee. 

What I possess, or what I crave, 

Brings no content, great God, to me, 

If what I would, or what I have, 
Be not possest, and blest in Thee : 



1 6 HYMNS AND POEMS 

What I enjoy, make it mine, 
In making me, that have it, Thine. 

When winter-fortunes cloud the brows 

Of summer-friends, — when eyes grow strange ; 
When plighted faith forgets its vows ; 
When earth and all things in it change : 
O Lord, Thy mercies fail me never — 
Where once Thou lovest, Thou lovest for 
ever. 

Great God, whose kingdom hath no end ; 

Into whose secrets none can dive ; 
Whose mercy none can apprehend ; 

Whose justice none can feel — and live ; 
What my dull heart cannot aspire 
To know, Lord, teach me to admire ! 



f^aZlofreti foe &Jjg Iffame* 
THE ELIXIR. 



George Herbert. 



TEACH me, my God and King, 
In all things Thee to see ; 
And what I do in any thing, 
To do it as for Thee : 

Not rudely, as a beast, 

To run into an action ; 
But still to make Thee prepossest, 

And give it his perfection. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 7 

A man that looks on glass, 

On it may stay his eye ; 
Or, if he pleaseth, through it pass, 

And then the Heaven espy. 

All may of Thee partake : 

Nothing can be so mean, 
Which, with this tincture, — for Thy sake, 

Will not grow bright and clean. 

A servant, with this clause, 

Makes drudgery divine : 
Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws, 

Makes that, and the action, fine. 

This is the famous stone 

That turneth all to gold ; 
For that which* God doth touch and own, 

Cannot for less be told. 



&fj2 WB fo tone* 

C. E. 

MY God, my Father, while I stray 
Far from my home in life's rough way, 
O teach me from my heart to say — 

" Thy will be done ! " 

Though dark my path, and sad my lot, 
Let me be still and murmur not ; 
And breathe the prayer divinely taught, — 
" Thy will be dene ! r 



i8 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



What though in lonely grief I sigh, 
For friends beloved, no longer nigh, 
Submissive still would I reply, — 

" Thy will be done ! " 

If Thou shouldst call me to resign 
What most I prize — it ne'er was mine ■ 
I only yield Thee what was Thine : 

" Thy will be done ! " 

Should pining sickness waste away 

My life in premature decay, 

My Father — still I'll strive to say, — 

" Thy will be done ! " 

If but my fainting heart be blest 
With Thy sweet Spirit for its guest, 
My God, to Thee I leave the rest : — 

" Thy will be done ! " 

Renew my will from day to day ; 
Blend it with Thine, and take away 
All that now makes it hard to say — 

" Thy will be done ! " 

Then, when on earth I breathe no more 
The prayer oft mix'd with tears before, 
I'll sing, upon a happier shore, — 

" Thy will be done ! " 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 9 

Gifo tts tfjts Bag our tfatlg taatu 
THE HOLDFAST. 

George Herbert. 

I THREATENED to observe the strict decree 
Of my dear God, with all my power and might : 
But I was told by one, it could not be ; 
Yet I might trust in God to be my light. 

" Then will I trust," said I, " in Him alone." 
Nay, e'en to trust in Him was also His : 

We must confess that nothing is our own. 
" Then I confess that He my succour is." 

But to have nought is ours ; not to confess 

That we have nought. I stood amazed at this ; 
Much troubled : till I heard a friend express, 
That all things were more ours by being His. 
What Adam had, and forfeited for all, 
Christ keepeth now, who cannot fail or fall. 



<B iLortr, safo Wfy servant : 
itfr pttttetfj fjfs trust in Wc\tu 

PSALM XXXI. 

H. F. Lyte. 

MY spirit on Thy care, 
Blest Saviour, I recline ; 
Thou wilt not leave me to despair, 
For Thou art love divine. 



20 HYMNS AND POEMS 



In Thee I place my trust, 

On Thee I calmly rest ; 
I know Thee good, I know Thee just, 

And count Thy choice the best. 

Whate'er events betide, 

Thy will they all perform : 
Safe in Thy breast my head I hide, 

Nor fear the coming storm. 

Let good or ill befal, 

It must be good for me ; 
Secure of having Thee in all, 

Of having all in Thee. 



(3 SLortf, sabe tfjg serbattt : 
tcfjr puttetfj Jjts trust in Qfytt. 



C.E. 

HOLY Saviour, friend unseen, 
Since on Thine arm Thou bidst me lean, 
Help me throughout life's varying scene, 
By faith to cling to Thee ! 

Blest with this fellowship divine, 
Take what Thou wilt, I'll ne'er repine. 
E'en as the branches to the vine, 

My soul would cling to Thee ! 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 21 

Far from her home, fatigued, opprest, 
Here she has found her place of rest ; 
An exile still, yet not unblest 

While she can cling to Thee ! 

Without a murmur I dismiss 

My former dreams of earthly bliss ; 

My joy, my consolation this, 

Each hour to cling to Thee i 

What though the world deceitful prove, 
And earthly friends and joys remove ; 
With patient, uncomplaining love 

Still would I cling to Thee ! 

Oft when I seem to tread alone 

Some barren waste with thorns o'ergrown, 

Thy voice of love, in tenderest tone, 

Whispers, " Still cling to me ! " 

Though faith and hope awhile be tried, 
I ask not, need not, aught beside : 
How safe, how calm, how satisfied, 

The souls that cling to Thee ! 

They fear not Satan or the grave, 
They feel Thee near, and strong to save, 
Nor fear to cross e'en Jordan's wave, 
Because they cling to Thee ! 



22 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Blest is my lot, whate'er befal : 
What can disturb me, what appal, 
Whilst as my Rock, my Strength, my All, 
Saviour, I cling to Thee ? 



&mti fjtm fjtlpr from Wqq fjolg place: 
&tttr ztexmoxz migrjtils Mettf fjttm 

The Hours. 

OGOD, the Lord of place and time, 
Who orderest all things prudently ; 
Brightening with beams the opening prime, 
And burning in the mid-day sky ; 

Quench Thou the fires of hate and strife, — 

The wasting fever of the heart ; 
From perils guard our feeble life, 

And to our souls Thy peace impart. 

This grace on Thy redeemed confer, — 

Father, co-equal Son, 
And Holy Ghost, the Comforter ; 

Eternal Three in One. 



FOR THE SICK AXD SUFFERING 2 3 



l*t tfje enemg tjabe no aofrantage of fjtm : 
Kor tfje bnckeH eqijrcoadj to fjurt J)tm* 



THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 



Spenser. 



AND is there care in Heaven, and is there love 
In heavenly spirits to these creatures bace, 
That may compassion of their evils move ? 

There is, — else much more wretched were the 

cace 
Of men than beasts. But, O the exceeding grace 
Of highest God, that loves His creatures so, 

And all His workes with mercy doth embrace. 
That blessed angels He sends to and fro 
To serve to wicked man, to serve His wicked foe ! 

How oft do they their silver bowers leave, 
To come to succour us that succour want ; 

How oft do they with golden pineons cleave 
The flitting Skyes, like flying pursuivant, 
Against foule feendes to aid us militant : 

They for us fight, they watch and dewly ward, 
And their bright squadrons round about us plant, 

And all for love, and nothing for reward : 

O why should h evenly God to man have such 
regard ! 



24 HYMNS AND POEMS 



2Let tfje metng ftabe no atibantage of {jtm* 

FOR strength and not for fear, O Man ! is 
given 
The upward sense that lifts thy soul to Heaven. 



y.s. 

THOU canst not do the thing thou wouldst, 
no doubt : 
Could we do all we would, life's task were out. 



3Let tfje metttfj Jjabe no a&bantage of Jjtm : 
RTor tfje ^icto approach to fjurt Jjtm* 

y. Chandler ; from St. Ambrose. 

OJESU, Lord of heavenly grace, 
Thou brightness of Thy Father's face, 
Thou fountain of eternal light, 
Whose beams disperse the shades of night ! 

Come, holy Sun of heavenly love, 
Shower down Thy radiance from above ; 
And to our inward hearts convey 
The Holy Spirit's cloudless ray. 

And we the Father's help will claim, 
And sing the Father's glorious name \ 
His powerful succour we implore, 
That we may stand, to fall no more. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 2$ 

May He our actions deign to bless, 
And loose the bonds of wickedness ; 
From sudden falls our feet defend, 
And bring us to a prosperous end. 

May faith, deep rooted in the soul, 
Subdue our flesh, our minds controul : 
May guile depart, and discord cease, 
And all within be joy and peace. 

And Christ shall be our daily food, 
Our daily drink His precious blood ; 
And thus the Spirit's calm excess, 
Shall fill our souls with holiness. 

O hallowed be the approaching day ! 
Let meekness be our morning ray, 
And faithful love our noon-day light, 
And hope our sunset, calm and bright. 

O Christ, with each returning morn, 
Thine image to our hearts is borne ; 
O may we ever clearly see 
Our Saviour and our God in Thee. 



26 HYMNS AND POEMS 

I8e unto fjtm, <& 3Lor&, a strong tofoer, from tfje face of fjis 
meats* 

PSALM LVII. 

Sandys. 

OTHOU from whom all mercy springs, 
Compassionate my sufferings, 
And pity me 
That trust in Thee ! 
O shelter with Thy shady wings, 
Until these stormes of woe 
Cleare up, or overblow. 

Thee I invoke, O Thou most High, 
Thou All-performer ! — from the skie 
Thy angels send ; 
Let them defend 
My soule from him that would destroy : 
O send Thy mercy downe, — 
With Truth Thy promise crowne ! 



HortJ, Jjear our pragers ; &nfc let our erg come unto GTfjee. 
CHURCH LOCK AND KEY. 

George Herbert. 

I KNOW it is my sin which locks Thine ears, 
And binds Thy hands, 
Outcrying my requests, drowning my tears ; — 
Or else the chillness of my faint demands. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 2*J 



But as cold hands are angry with the fire, 

And mend it still ; 
So I do lay the want of my desire, 
Not on my sins or coldness, but Thy will. 

Yet hear, O God ! only for His blood's sake, 

Which pleads for me ; 
For though sins plead too, yet like stones they make 
His blood's sweet current much more loud to be. 



© Hortr, fjear our praters ; &ttij let our erg come unto Wfyzz. 

THE SUPPLIANT. 

R. C. Trench. 

ALL night the lonely suppliant prayed, 
All night his earnest crying made, 
Till standing by his side at morn, 
The tempter said in bitter scorn, 
" O peace : — what profit do you gain 
From empty words and babblings vain ? 
' Come, Lord — O come !' you cry alway ! 
You pour your heart out night and day ; 
Yet still no murmur of reply, — 
No voice that answers, ' Here am I.' " 

Then sank that stricken heart in dust, 
That word had withered all its trust ; 
No strength retained it now to pray, 
While Faith and Hope had fled away : 



28 HYMNS AND POEMS 

And ill that mourner now had fared, 
Thus by the tempter's art ensnared, 
But that at length beside his bed 
His sorrowing angel stood, and said, — 
Doth it repent thee of thy love, 
That never now is heard above 
Thy prayer ; that now not any more 
It knocks at Heaven's gate as before?" 
— " I am cast out — I find no place, 
No hearing at the throne of grace. 
' Come, Lord — O come !' I cry alway, 
I pour my heart out night and day, 
Yet never until now have won 
The answer — ' Here am I, my son.' " 

— " O dull of heart ! enclosed doth lie, 

In each ' Come, Lord,' an c Here am L' 

Thy love, thy longing, are not thine — 

Reflections of a love divine . 

Thy very prayer to thee was given, 

Itself a messenger from Heaven. 

Whom God rejects, they are not so ; 

Strong bands are round them in their woe ; 

Their hearts are bound with bands of brass, 

That sigh or crying cannot pass. 

All treasures did the Lord impart 

To Pharaoh, save a contrite heart : 

All other gifts unto his foes 

He freely gives, nor grudging knows ; 

But Love's sweet smart, and costly pain, 

A treasure for his friends remain. 



FIRST COLLECT. 

® ILorb, look boron from tyeanen, beljolb, tri^it, 
anb relieue tl)ig 2ft)g gernani 3£ook upon l)im 
roitl) tlje egeg of ®l)g mercg, gh>e l)im comfort 
anb 0ure contfbence in SUtjee, befenb l)im from % 
banger of tlje enemg, anb keep f)tm in perpetual 
peace anb tfafetg ; tljrougl) ge£u$ (SHjrtet onr 
ILorb. Jlmen. 



SECOND COLLECT. 

Hear u& $llmigl)tg anb mo£t merciful dob 
anb jfeauiour; estcnb ®!)g accugtomeb goobneg* 
to tl)i£ ®l)2 geruant rol)o i# griet)eb mitl) gickne$£. 
j£>anctifg, toe be^eecl) <ftl)ee, tl)i£ §H)g fatljcrlg cor- 
rection to l)im ; tl)at tt)e jsenge of \)i& weakness 
mag abb jertrengtl) to l)i# faitl), anb geriou$neg£ 
to l)i& repentance : Sfjat, if it jsfyall be Sljg 300b 
pleasure to restore l)im to I)ig former ljeal% l)e 
mag leab tl)e re^ibue of \)i& life in Styg fear, anb 
to Styg glorg : or etee, gine l)im grace 00 to take 
§H)g nictation, tljat, after tl)i£ painful life zvfotb, 
l)e mag btoell roitl) STljee in life enerlatfting , 
tljrougl) $egug Cljri^t our IDorb. Jlmen, 



30 HYMNS AND POEMS 



^Hortr, looft tiofonfrom faabett, fcefjolfc, kbit, anfc reltebe 
tfjts ^1)2 servant* 



GRACE. 

George Herbert. 

MY stock lies dead, and no increase 
Doth my dull husbandry improve : 
O let Thy graces without cease 

Drop from above. 



If still the sun should hide his face, 

Thy house would but a dungeon prove ; 
Thy works, night's captives : O let grace 
Drop from above. 

The dew doth every morning fall ; 

And shall the dew outstrip Thy Dove ? 
The dew, for which grass cannot call, 
Drop from above. 

Death is still working like a mole, 

And digs my grave at each remove ; 
Let grace work too, and on my soul 

Drop from above. 

Sin is still hammering my heart 

Unto a hardness void of love : 
Let suppl'ing grace, to cross his art, 

Drop from above. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 3 I 

O come, for Thou dost know the way ; 

Or if to me Thou wilt not move, 
Remove me where I need not say — 

Drop from above. 



<B ILoxti, looft fcofcm from fjeabm, fttfjottr, irisit, anti xdizhz 
tfjts ^Tfj2 serbant 

EVENING HYMN. 

Flatman. 

SLEEP, downy sleep ! come close my eyes, 
Tired with beholding vanities : 
Sweet slumbers, come and chase away 
The toils and follies of the day ; 
On your soft bosom will I lie, 
Forget the world, and learn to die. 
O Israel's watchful Shepherd, spread 
Tents of angels round my bed ; 
Let not the spirits of the air 
While I slumber me ensnare ; 
But save Thy suppliant free from harms, 
Clasped in Thine everlasting arms. 
Clouds and thick darkness are Thy throne, 
Thy wonderful pavilion ; 
O dart from thence a shining ray, 
And then my midnight shall be day. 
Thus when the morn, in crimson drest, 
Breaks through the windows of the east, 
My hymns of thankful praise shall rise 
Like incense at the morning sacrifice. 



32 HYMNS AND POEMS 

ffiibe Jjim comfort anti sure confttimce ttt Wqtt. 
COMFORT. 

Elizabeth B. Barrett. 

SPEAK to me, O my Saviour, low and sweet, 
From out the hallelujahs, — sweet and low, 
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so, 
Who art not miss'd where faithful hearts intreat : 
Speak to me, as to Mary at Thy feet ; 
And if no precious gums my hands bestow, 
My tears fall fast, as amber. Let me go 
In reach of Thy divinest voice complete 
With humanest affection, there, in sooth, 
To lose the sense of losing, as a child, 
Its song-bird being lost, fled evermore, 
Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth ; 
Till sinking on her breast, love-reconciled, 
He sleeps the faster that he wept before. 

(Kibe fjim comfort atttf sttre cotvOfoence in ffl$zz. 
PSALM XXIII. 

" Psalter in English Verse." 

MY Shepherd is the Lord ; I know 
No care or craving need : 
He lays me where the green herbs grow 
Along the quiet mead : 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



He leads me where the waters glide, 

The waters soft and still, 
And homeward He will gently guide 

My wandering heart and will. 

He brings me on the righteous path, 
E'en for His Name's dear sake. 

What if in vale and shade of Death 
My dreary way I take ? 

I fear no ill, for Thou, O God, 

With me for ever art ; 
Thy shepherd's staff, Thy guiding rod, 

'Tis they console my heart. 

For me Thy board is richly spread 

In sight of all my foes, 
Fresh oil of Thine embalms my head, 

My cup of grace o'erflows. 

O nought but love and mercy wait 
Through all my life on me, 

And I within my Father's gate 
For long bright years shall be* 



34 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Uefenft fjtm from tfje Sanger of tfje enemg, atttt fteep ijtm 
in perpetual peace atttr safety* 

PSALM III. 

MORE THAN CONQUERORS. 

Lewis Way. 

OLORD ! when troublous billows roll, 
A strange tempestuous sea, 
My foes exclaim against my soul — 
There is no help for thee ! 

Though they be many, Thou, O Lord, 

Art still my sure defence ; 
My glory, Thine eternal Word, 

My shield, Omnipotence. 

I cry to Thee with inward voice, 

And Thou dost hear my call, 
And cause my spirit to rejoice 

Triumphant o'er them all. 

I laid me down in peace, and slept, 

From every terror free, 
In strength renewed, in safety kept ; 

The Lord sustained me. 

He heard me from His holy hill, 

Be gone, ye fears, be gone ! 
The Lord is round about me still, 

The great, the mighty One ! 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 35 

Arise and save me, O my God ! 

Thy blessing give to me ; 
My foes are fled before Thy rod, 

Salvation is of Thee ! 



JBefrttti Jjim from tfje danger of tfje enemg, atttr keep fjtm 
in perpetual peace antf safety. 

"Hymns of the Primitive Church." 

THOU brightness of Thy Father's face, 
Thou Sun of heavenly day, 
Thou Christ, whose gracious beams remove 
The soul's dark shades away ; 

The Sun is sunk ; the shadowy night 

Is reigning in his room ; 
Continue, Lord, Thy saving help, 

And keep us through the gloom. 

What though our eyes be sunk in sleep, 

To Thee our hearts ascend : 
Do Thou, with Thine Almighty hand, 

Thy loving saints defend. 

What though, by earthly woes oppressed, 

The body wearied lies, 
Yet may our spirit freely wing 

Its passage to the skies. 



36 HYMNS AND POEMS 

O Thou, who art our only hope, 
Thy help we humbly crave ; 

Defend Thy blood-bought people, Lord, 
Whom Jesus died to save. 

To God the Father, God the Son, 

And God the Holy Ghost, 
All glory be from saints on earth, 

And from the angel-host. 



&attct% foe taeecfr Wfytz, tfjts Wi)£ fetfjerlg correction 
to fjtm. 

AFFLICTION. 

(part.) 

George Herbert. 

AFFLICTION then is ours. 
We are the trees whom shaking fastens more, 
While blust'ring winds destroy the wanton bowers, 
And ruffle all their curious knots and store. 
My God, so temper joy and woe, 
That Thy bright beams may tame Thy bow. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 37 



&anctifg, foe beseecfj <£fjee, tfjts STJjtj fatfjerlg correction 
to Jjim* 

A PRAYER. 

Nicholas Breton. 

PLANT, Lorde, in me the tree of godly lyfe, 
Hedge me about with Thy strong fence of 
faith ; 
If Thee it please, use eke Thy pruning-knife, 

Lest that, O Lord ! as a good gardiner saith — 
If suckers draw the sappe from bowes on hie, 
Perhaps in tyme the top of tree may die. 
Let, Lord ! this tree be set within Thy garden-wall 
Of Paradise, where growes no one ill sprig at all. 



^anctitg, foe foeseecfj &Jjee, tfjts Gtfjfj fatfjerlrj correction 
to fym. 

JOB X. 2. 

E. M. 

OTHOU ! whose gently chastening hand 
In mercy deals the blow, 
Make but Thy servant understand 
Wherefore Thou lay'st me low ! 

I ask Thee not the rod to spare, 

While thus Thy love I see ; 
But O let every suffering bear 

Some message, Lord, from Thee ! 



38 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Perhaps an erring wish I knew 

To read my future fate, 
And Thou would'st say — " Thy days are few, 

And vain thy best estate ! " 

Perhaps Thy glory seemed my choice, 

Whilst I secured my own, 
And thus my kind Reprover's voice 

Tells me He works alone ! 

O silence Thou this murmuring will, 

Nor bid Thy rough wind stay, 
Till with a furnace hotter still 

My dross is purged away ! 



&attct% foe kseecfy Wfjzz, tfjts Wi)£ fatfyerlg correction 
to Jjttm 

Francis Quarles. 

MY soul, thy gold is true, but full of dross ; 
Thy Saviour's breath refines thee with 
some loss ; 
His gentle furnace makes thee pure as true ; 
Thou must be melted ere thou'rt cast anew. 



GOD only smites, that through the wounds of 
woe 
The healing balm He gives may inlier flow ! 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING S9 



Efjat tfje sense of Jjts Weakness mag aWJ strength to Jjts faitfj. 

FROM THE ITALIAN. 

Wordsworth. 

THE prayers I make will then be sweet indeed, 
If Thou the Spirit give by which I pray : 
My unassisted heart is barren clay, 
That of its native self can nothing feed : 
Of good and pious works Thou art the seed, 
That quickens only where Thou sayest it may : 
Unless Thou show to us Thine own true way, 
No man can find it : Father ! Thou must lead. 
Do Thou then breathe those thoughts into my 

mind, 
By which such virtue may in me be bred, 
That in Thy holy footsteps I may tread ; 
The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind, 
That I may have the power to sing of Thee, 
And sound Thy praises everlastingly. 



&fjat tfje sense of ffts Weakness mag afctr strength to fjts fattfj. 

Spenser. 

WHAT man is he that boasts of fleshly might, 
And vaine assurance of mortality. 
Which all so soone as it doth come to fight 
Against spirituall foes, yields by and by, 



40 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Or from the fielde most cowardly doth flie ? 
Ne let the man ascribe it to his skill, 

That thorough grace hath gained victory : 
If any strength we have, it is to ill, 
But all the good is God's, both powre and eke the 
will. 



Bishoj> Ken. 



S 



UBMIT yourself to God, and you shall find, 
God fights the battles of a will resigned. 



&fjat tije sense of Jjts foeaftness mag atft strength to Jjts fait!;, 
anti seriousness to fjts repentance* 



o 



" Hymns of the Primitive Church." 

GOD of our salvation, Lord 



Of wond'rous power and love ! 
May faith, salvation's holy seed, 
Be sent us from above. 

'Tis faith that gives us strength to fight, 
That we our foes may quell ; 

And with the shield of faith we quench 
The fiery darts of hell. 

By faith we make our prayers to Thee, 

In that most holy Name, 
On which, for mercy and for peace, 

Hope rests her stedfast claim. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 4 1 

For that Name's sake, assist us, Lord, 

To run our heavenward race ; 
And O may no unholy life 

Our holy faith disgrace. 

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 

Be praise and glory given ; 
Who pour into the hearts of men 

True light and heat from heaven. 



Efjat, after tfjis painful life en&eU, \z mag tteli bit]) Wfyzz 
in life etalastittg* 

II. COR. V. 4. 

IN health, O Lord ! and prosperous days, 
When worldly wealth or worldly praise, 
When worldly thoughts have filled our heart, 
We would not from the body part ; — 
And then the very thought is loathed, 
That we must be by death unclothed. 

In sickness, sorrow, or in shame, 
We fain would quit this mortal frame ; — 
But thus to shrink from toil and pain, 
This is not longing for Thy reign ; 
Brought low, we only seek to be 
Unclothed, not clothed upon by Thee. 

O rather help us as we ought 

To feel what Thine Apostle taught, — 



42 HYMNS AND POEMS 

That not for aye we seek to wear 
This form of clay, corruption's heir, 
Nor yet impatient ask alone 
To be unclothed, but clothed upon ! 

O blessed Lord ! whose merits dress 

Thy saints in robes of righteousness ; 

Through whom for us eternal stands 

That heavenly house not made with hands, — 

When this frail dwelling sets us free, 

Quench Thou in life mortality ! 



THE EXHORTATION. 

FIRST PART. 

Pearig bekmeb, knoto tljig, tljat $timigl)tg (got) 
i# tlje |Lorb of life anb beatlj, anil of all tfyingg to 
tljem pertaining, a£ gon% jstrengtl), tyealtl), age, 
toeakne£$, anb $ickne££. 2Hl)erefore, tofyatgoeuer 
gonr £ickne££ ig, knoto gon certainlg, tfyat it ijs 
(flob'g nictation. $tnb for toljat can*e goeuer 
tl)ig gieknegj* ig gent unto gon ; toljetfyer it be to 
trg gonr patience for tlje example of ott}er^ anb 
tljat gonr fait!) mag be fonnb in ttje bag of tlje 
|Lorb lanbable, glorionj*, anb Ijononrable, to tlje 
increase of glorg anb enblegg felicitg ; or eige it 
be jsent unto gon to correct anb amenb in gon 
tofyateoener botl) offenb t^e egeg of gonr fyeasenlg 
Jfatfyer ; knoto gon certainlg, tljat if gon tmlg 
repent gon of gonr £in£, anb bear gonr gickne$$ 
patientlg, trngting in (Sob'j* mercg, for l§i£ bear 
^on gegn* &t)ri£t'g sake, anb renber nnto Him 
Ijnmble tljanktf for Hi* fatl)erlg nictation, jsnb- 
mitting gonrgeif mijoilg nnto |p£ toili, it £l)atl 
tnrn to gonr profit, anb fjelp gon fortoarb in t!)e 
rigljt toag tfjat leabetl) nnto enerlagting life* 



44 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Bearlp Mofce&, ftnofo tfjts, tfjat ^Imtgfjtg ©rft is tfje Horfc 
of life antr treaty* 

THE EVENING-WATCH. 

A DIALOGUE. 

Henry Vaughan. 

Body. 

AREWELL ! I goe to sleep ; but when 
The day-star springs, I'll wake agen. 



F 



Soul. 

Goe, sleep in peace ; and when thou lyest 

Unnumber'd in thy dust, when all this frame 

Is but one dramme, and what thou now descriest 

In sev'rall parts shall want a name, 
Then may His peace be with thee, and each dust 
Writ in His book, who ne'er betray'd man's trust ! 

Body. 

Amen ! but hark, ere we two stray, 
How many hours, dost think, till day ? 

Soul. 

Ah ! go ; thou'rt weak, and sleepie. Heav'n 
Is a plain watch, and without figures winds 
All ages up ; who drew this Circle, even 

He fills it ; Dayes and hours are Blinds. 
Yet this take with thee ; The last gasp of Time 
Is thy first breath, and man's etemall Prime. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 45 



^Imtgjtg ©0X1 is tfje 3Lor& of life anti tieatfj, anti of ail 
ifjings to tljem pertaining, as goutfj, strength, fjealtfj, age, 
Weakness, anti sickness. 

" Hickes' Devotio?is." 

MY God, to Thee ourselves we owe, 
And to Thy bounty all we have ; 
Behold to Thee our praises flow, 
And humbly Thy acceptance crave. 

If we are happy in a friend, 

That very friend 'tis Thou bestow'st, 
His power, his will to help our end, 
Is just so much as Thou allow'st. 

If we enjoy a free estate, 

Our only title is from Thee ; 
Thou madest our lot to bear that rate, 

Which else an empty blank would be. 

If we have health, — that well-tuned ground 
Which gives the music to the rest, — 

It is by Thee our air is sound, 

Our food secured, our physic blest. 

If we have hope one day to view 

The glories of Thy blissful face, 
Each drop of that refreshing dew 

Must fall from Heaven and Thy free grace. 



46 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Thus then to Thee our praises bow, 
And humbly Thy acceptance crave ; 

Since 'tis to Thee ourselves we owe, 
And to Thy bounty all we have. 

Glory to Thee, great God, alone, 
Three Persons in one Deity ; 

As it has been in ages gone, 
May now, and still for ever be. 



Dearlg foefatatt, fcnofo tfjts, tfjat ^Imtg^tg ffiotr is tfje 3LortJ 
of life atttr fceatfj, antt of all tfjings t0 tfjem pertaining. 

i?. C. Trench. 

THOU cam'st not to thy place by accident, 
It is the very place God meant for thee ; 
And shouldst thou there small scope for action see, 
Do not for this give room to discontent ; 
Nor let the time thou owest to God be spent 
In idly dreaming how thou mightest be, 
In what concerns thy spiritual life, more free 
From outward hindrance or impediment : 
For presently this hindrance thou shalt find 
That without which all goodness were a task 
So slight, that Virtue never could grow strong : 
And wouldst thou do one duty to His mind, 
The Imposer's — over-burdened thou shalt ask, 
And own thy need of grace to help, ere long. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 47 



&ltmgfjt2 (Bob is tfje SLorfc of life an& fceatfj, antJ of all 
things to tfjem pertaining* 



A 



Elizabeth Thomas. 

H ! strive no more to know what fate 



Is pre-ordained for thee : 
Tis vain in this thy mortal state, 
For Heaven's inscrutable decree 
Will only be revealed in vast eternity. 
Then, my soul, 
Remember thy celestial birth, 
And live to Heaven while here on earth. 
Thy God is infinitely true, 
All Justice, yet all Mercy too : 
To Him then, through thy Saviour, pray 
For grace to guide thee on thy way, 

And give thee will to do. 
But humbly, for the rest, my soul, 
Let Hope and Faith the limits be 
Of thy presumptuous curiosity ! 



&lmigf}t2 &tto is tfje 2LorU of life antr teatfj, anto of all 
tljings to tfjem pertaining* 

FROM THE ARABIC. 

Elegiac Poems. 



D 



ESPAIR not in the vale of woe, 

Where many joys from suffering flow. 



4-8 HYMNS AND POEMS 

II. 

Oft breathes Simoom, and close behind 
A breath of God doth softly blow. 

in. 
Clouds threaten — but a ray of light, 
And not of lightning, falls below. 

IV. 

How many winters o'er thy head 
Have past — yet bald it does not show. 

v. 

Thy branches are not bare — and yet 
What storms have shook them to and fro. 

VI. 

To thee has time brought many joys, 
If many it has bid to go ; 

VII. 

And seasoned has with bitterness 
Thy cup, that flat it should not grow. 

VIII. 

Trust in that veiled hand, which leads 
None by the path that he would go ; 

IX. 

And always be for change prepared, 
For the world's law is ebb and flow. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 49 



X. 

Stand fast in suffering, until He 
Who called it shall dismiss also ; 

XI. 

And from the Lord all good expect, 
Who many mercies strews below, 

XII. 

Who in life's narrow garden-strip 
Has bid delights unnumbered blow. 



Ilmigfftg 0otf is tfje Horti of life amfc tatfj, atttJ of all 
things to tfjem pertaining* 

SUPPORT UNDER AFFLICTION. 

Wordsworth. 

ONE adequate support 
For the calamities of mortal life 
Exists, one only ; — an assured belief 
That the procession of our fate, howe'er 
Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being 
Of infinite benevolence and power ; 
Whose everlasting purposes embrace 
All accidents, converting them to good. 
— The darts of anguish y£# not, where the seat 
Of suffering hath been throughly fortified 
By acquiescence in the Will Supreme, 



50 HYMNS AND POEMS 

For time and for Eternity ; by faith, 
Faith absolute in God, including hope, 
And the defence that lies in boundless love 
Of His perfections ; with habitual dread 
Of aught unworthily conceived ; endured 
Impatiently ; ill-done, or left undone, 
To the dishonour of His holy Name. — 
Soul of our souls, and safeguard of the world ! 
Sustain, Thou only canst, the sick of heart, 
Restore their languid spirits, and recal 
Their lost affections unto Thee and Thine ! 



<Elmtgf)t2 <£ot! is tfje ILortr of Hit anfc treaty, attfc of all 
tfjings to tfjem pertaining* 

THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE. 

Spenser. 

" /^vF things unseene, how canst thou deeme 

\_J aright," 

Then answered the righteous Artegall, — 
" Sith thou misdeem'st so much of things in sight ? 

What though the sea with waves continuall 

Doe eat the earth, it is no more at all ; 
Ne is the earth the lesse, or loseth aught ; 

For whatsoever from one place doth fall, 
Is with the tide unto another brought ; 
For there is nothing lost that may be found if 
sought. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 5 I 

Likewise the earth is not augmented more 

By all that dying into it doe fade, 
For of the earth they formed were of yore ; 

However gay their blossome or their blade 

Doe flourish now, they into dust shall vade : 
What wrong then is it if that when they die 

They turne to that whereof they first were made ? 
All in the powre of their great Maker lie ; 
All creatures must obey the voice of the Most 
High. 

They live, they die, like as He doth ordaine, 

Ne ever any asketh reason why : 
The hils doe not the lowly dales disdaine ; 

The dales doe not the lofty hils envy. 

He maketh kings to sit in sovereinty ; 
He maketh subjects to their powre obey : 

He pulleth downe, He setteth up on high ; 
He gives to this, from that He takes away \ 
For all we have is His : what He list doe, He may. 

Whatever thing is done, by Him is done, 

Ne any may His mighty will withstand \ 
Ne any may His sovereine power shun, 

Ne loose that He hath bound with steadfast band. 

In vaine therefore dost thou now take in hand 
To call to count, or weigh His workes anew, 

Whose counsel's depth thou canst not understand, 
Sith of things subject to thy daily view, 
Thou dost not know the causes nor their courses 
dew. 



52 HYMNS AND POEMS 

For take thy ballaunce, if thou be so wise, 

And weigh the winde that under heaven doth blow ; 
Or weigh the light that in the east doth rise ; 

Or weigh the thought that from man's mind doth 
flow : 

But if the weight of these thou canst not show, 
Weigh but one word which from thy lips doth fall: 

For how canst thou those greater secrets know, 
That dost not know the least thing of them all ? 
Ill can he rule the great that cannot reach the small." 



•ElmigJjtg ®o& is tfje Horfc of life an* fceatfj, 
BREVITY OF LIFE. 

Francis Quarles. 

BEHOLD 
How short a span 
Was long enough of old, 
To measure out the life of man ! 
In those well-tempered days, his life was then 
Surveyed, cast up, and found but threescore years 
and ten. 

Alas ! 

And what is that ? 

They come, and slide, and pass, 

Before my pen can tell thee what ; 

The posts of time are swift, which having run 

Their seven short stages o'er, their short-lived task 

is done 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 53 

Our days 

Begun, we lend 

To sleep, to antic plays 

And toys, until the first stage end : 

Twelve waning moons, twice five times told we give 

To unrecovered loss, — we rather breathe than live. 

We spend 

A ten years' breath 

Before we apprehend 

What 'tis to live, or fear a death : 

Our childish dreams are filled with painted joys, 

Which please our sense awhile, and waking prove 

but toys. 

How vain, 

How wretched is 

Poor man, that doth remain 

A slave to such a state as this ! 

His days are short at longest, few at most, 

They are but bad at best ; yet lavished out, or 

lost. 

They be 

The secret springs, 

That make our minutes flee 

On wheels more swift than eagles' wings : 

Our life's a clock, and every gasp of breath 

Breathes forth a warning grief, till Time shall 

strike a death. 



54 HYMNS AND POEMS 

How soon 

Our new-born light 

Attains to full aged-noon ! 

And this how soon to grey-haired night ! 

We spring, we bud, we blossom, and we blast, 

Ere we can count our days, our days they flee so 

fast. 

They end 

When scarce begun ; 

And ere we apprehend 

That we begin to live, our life is done ; 

Man, count thy days, and if they fly too fast 

For thy dull thoughts to count, count every day 

thy last ! 



itoofo gnu certamlg, tfjat it is 0ofcV fcfettatton. 
ACTS XVII. 27. 



J. S. Monsell. 



THOU art near, — yes, Lord, I feel it, 
Thou art near where'er I move, 
And though sense would fain conceal it, 
Faith oft whispers it to love. 

Thou art near, — O what a terror 
To the soul that loves Thee not ! 

Thou art near to mark each error, 
Where it cannot be forgot. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 55 

Thou art near, — O what a blessing 
To the souls Thy love hath blest ! 

Souls, Thy daily care confessing, 
Daily by their God confessed. 

Why should I despond or tremble 
When Jehovah stoops to cheer ? 

But O far rather, why dissemble 
When Omniscience is near ? 

Am I weak ? Thine arm will lead me 
Safe through every danger, Lord : 

Am I hungry ? Thou wilt feed me 
With the manna of Thy Word. 

Am I thirsting ? Thou wilt guide me 

Where refreshing waters flow ; 
Faint or feeble, Thou'lt provide me 

Grace for every want I know. 

Am I fearful ? Thou wilt take me 
Underneath Thy wings, my God ! 

Am I faithless ? Thou wilt make me 
Bow beneath Thy chastening rod. 

Am I drooping ? Thou art near me, 

Near to bear me on my way : 
Am I pleading ? Thou wilt hear me, 

Hear and answer when I pray. 

G 



56 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Then, O my soul, since God doth love thee, 
Faint not, droop not, do not fear ; 

For though His Heaven is high above thee, 
He Himself is ever near ! 

Near to watch thy wayward spirit, 
Sometimes cold and careless grown ; 

But likewise near with grace and merit, 
All thy Saviour's, thence thine own. 



OTfjatsoefcer gottr sickness is, ftttofo sou certainly, tfjat it ii 
(KoU's Visitation. 



is 



DIVERS PROVIDENCES. 

Wither. 

WHEN all the year our fields are fresh and 
green, 

And while sweet showers and sunshine every day, 
As oft as need requireth, come between 

The heavens and earth, they heedless pass away. 
The fulness and continuance of a blessing 

Doth make us to be senseless of the good ; 
And if sometimes it fly not our possessing, 

The sweetness of it is not understood. 
Had we no winter, summer would be thought 

Not half so pleasing ; and if tempests were not, 
Such comforts by a calm could not be brought ; 

For things save by their opposites appear not. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 57 

Both health and wealth are tasteless unto some, 

And so is ease and every other pleasure ; 
Till poor, or sick, or grieved they become, 

And then they relish these in ampler measure. 
God, therefore, full as kind as He is wise, 

So tempereth all the favours He will do us, 
That we His bounties may the better prize, 

And make His chastisements less bitter to us. 
One while, a scorching indignation burns 

The flowers and blossoms of our hope away, 
Which into scarcity our plenty turns, 

And changeth new-mown grass to parched hay ; 
Anon, His fruitful showers and pleasing dews 

Commixed with cheerful rays, He sendeth down, 
And then the barren earth her crops renews, 

Which with rich harvests hills and valleys crown ; 
For as, to relish joys, He sorrow sends, 
So comfort on temptation still attends. 



Ifcnofo gou certainly, tfjat it is (Sxtiifz irisitation. 

THE WALL-FLOWER. 

H. F. Lyte. 

WHY loves my flower, so high reclined 
upon these walls of barren gloom, 
To waste her sweetness on the wind, 
And far from every eye to bloom ? 



58 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Why joy to twine with golden braid 
This ruined rampart's aged head, 
Proud to expose her gentle form, 
And swing her bright locks in the storm ? 

That lonely spot is bleak and hoar, 

Where prints my flower her fragrant kiss ; 
Yet sorrow hangs not fonder o'er 

The ruins of her faded bliss. 
And wherefore will she thus inweave 
The owl's lone couch, and feel at eve 
The wild bat o'er her blossoms fling, 
And strike them down with heedless wing ? 

Thus, gazing on the loftiest tower 

Of ruined Fore at eventide, 
The Muse addressed a lonely flower 

That bloomed above in summer pride. 
The Muse's eye, the Muse's ear, 
Can more than others see and hear : 
The breeze of evening murmured by, 
And gave, she deemed, this faint reply : 

" On this lone tower, so wild and drear, 
'Mid storms and clouds I love to lie, 
Because I find a freedom here 

Which prouder haunts could ne'er supply. 
Safe on these walls I sit, and stem 
The elements that conquered them ; 
And high o'er reach of plundering foe 
Smile on an anxious world below. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 59 

" Though envied place I may not claim 
On warrior's crest, or lady's hair ; 

Though tongue may never speak my name, 
Nor eye behold and own me fair ; 

To Him, who tends me from the sky, 

I spread my beauties here on high, 

And bid the winds to waft above 

My incense to His throne of love. 

" And though in hermit solitude, 
Aloft and wild, my home I choose, 

On the rock's bosom pillowed rude, 
And nurtured by the falling dews ; 

Yet duly with the opening year 

I hang my golden mantle here. 

A child of God's I am, and He 

Sustains, and clothes, and shelters me. 

" Nor deem my state without its bliss : 
Mine is the first young smile of day ; 

Mine the light zephyr's earliest kiss ; 
And mine the skylark's matin lay. 

These are my joys : with these on high 

In peace I hope to live and die, 

And drink the dew, and scent the breeze, 

As blithe a flower as Flora sees." 

Bloom on, sweet moralist ! Be thine 
The softest shower, the brightest sun ! 

Long o'er a world of error shine, 

And teach them what to seek and shun ! 



60 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Bloom on, and show the simple glee 
That dwells with those who dwell like thee ; 
From noise, and glare, and folly driven, 
To thought, retirement, peace, and Heaven. 

Show them, in thine, the Christian's lot, 
So dark and drear in worldly eyes ; 

And yet he would exchange it not 
For all they most pursue and prize. 

From meaner cares and trammels free, 

He soars above the world, like thee ; 

And, fed and nurtured from above, 

Returns the debt in grateful love. 

Frail, like thyself, fair flower, is he, 
And beat by every storm and shower ; 

Yet on a Rock he stands, like thee, 

And braves the tempest's wildest power. 

And there he blooms, and gathers still 

A good from every seeming ill ; 

And, pleased with what his lot has given, 

He lives to God, and looks to Heaven. 

j. s. 

Swim through the waves of Time, and ne'er despair, 
But lift thy head, and breathe eternal air. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 6 I 



OTfjatsoeber gout sickness is, ftnofo gou rertainljr, tfjrat it 
is (Haft's btsttatton* 

SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 
Ephesians hi. 13. 

J. Keble. 

WISH not, dear friends, my pain away — 
Wish me a wise and thankful heart, 
With God, in all my griefs to stay, 
Nor from His loved correction start. 



The dearest offering He can crave 
His portion in our souls to prove, 

What is it to the gift He gave, 
The only Son of His dear love ? 

But we, like vexed unquiet sprights, 
Will still be hovering o'er the tomb, 

Where buried lie our vain delights, 
Nor sweetly take a sinner's doom. 

In Life's long sickness evermore 
Our thoughts are tossing to and fro : 

We change our posture o'er and o'er, 
But cannot rest, nor cheat our woe. 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



Were it not better to lie still, 

Let Him strike home and bless the rod, 
Never so safe as when our will 

Yields undiscerned by all but God ? 

Thy precious things, whate'er they be 

That haunt and vex thee, heart and brain, 

Look to the Cross, and thou shalt see 
How thou mayest turn them all to gain. 

Lovest thou praise ? the Cross is shame : 
Or ease ? the Cross is bitter grief : 

More pains than tongue or heart can frame 
Were suffered there without relief. 

We of that altar would partake, 

But cannot quit the cost — no throne 

Is ours, to leave for Thy dear sake — 
We cannot do as Thou hast done. 

We cannot part with Heaven for Thee — 
Yet guide us in Thy track of love : 

Let us gaze on where light should be, 
Though not a beam the clouds remove. 

So wanderers ever fond and true 

Look homeward through the evening sky, 
Without a streak of Heaven's soft blue 

To aid Affection's dreaming eye. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 63 

The wanderer seeks his native bower, 
And we will look and long for Thee, 

And thank Thee for each trying hour, 
Wishing, not struggling, to be free. 



Gffjat gour fait!; mag fre fatttttr in tfje trag of tfje 3Lorti 
laufcafcle, glorious, antr Jjonouraftle, to tfje increase of glorg 
anU eitiiless felieitg* 



Drummond. 



J 



ERUSALEM ! that place divine, 
The vision of sweet peace is named, 
In Heaven her glorious turrets shine, 
Her walls of living stones are framed ; 
While angels guard her on each side, 
Fit company for such a bride. 



She, decked in new attire, from Heaven 

Her wedding chamber, now descends ; 
Prepared in marriage to be given 

To Christ, on whom her joy depends. 
Her walls, wherewith she is enclosed, 
And streets are of pure gold composed. 

The gates, adorned with pearls most bright, 
The way to hidden glory show ; 

And thither, by the blessed might 
Of faith in Jesus' merits go 



64 HYMNS AND POEMS 

All those who are on earth distressed, 
Because they have Christ's name professed. 

These stones the workmen dress and beat, 

Before they throughly polished are ; 
Then each is in his proper seat 
Established by the builder's care, 
In this fair frame to stand for ever, 
So joined that them no force can sever. 

To God who sits in highest seat, 

Glory and power given be, 
To Father, Son, and Paraclete, 
Who reign in equal dignity ; 

Whose boundless power we still adore, 
And sing Their praise for evermore. 



t33jat pur fatty mag foe fcrtmlj in fyt trag of tfje Hot* 
laufcafoie, glorious, attfc honourable* 

PSALM LXXXIV. 

H. F. Lyte. 

PLEASANT are Thy courts above, 
In the land of light and love ; 
Pleasant are Thy courts below, 
In this land of sin and woe. 



FOR THE SICK AXD SUFFERIXG 



O, my spirit longs and faints 
For the converse of Thy saints, 
For the brightness of Thy face, 
King of Glory, God of grace ! 

Happy birds, that sing and fly 
Round Thy altars, O most High ! 
Happier souls, that find a rest 
In a Heavenly Father's breast ! 
Like the wandering dove that found 
No repose on earth around, 
They can to their ark repair. 
And enjoy it ever there. 

Happy souls ! their praises flow 

Ever in this vale of woe ; 

Waters in the desert rise, 

Manna feeds them from the skies ; 

On they go from strength to strength, 

Till they reach Thy throne at length, 

At Thy feet adoring fall, 

Who hast led them safe through all. 

Lord, be mine this prize to win ; 
Guide me through a world of sin ; 
Keep me by Thy saving grace ; 
Give me at Thy side a place. 
Sun and shield alike Thou art; 
Guide and guard my erring heart ; 
Grace and glory flow from Thee ; 
Shower, O shower them, Lord, on me. 



66 HYMNS AND POEMS 



WtfKt gour fatty mag lie fouttir in tye trag of tye 3Lor& 
laudable, glorious, an& fjottouraftle. 

FAITH IN PERIL. 

THIS outward life, with all its busy forms, 
Whirling like flakes of snow in alpine storms, 
Confuses, chills, and in a shifting grave 
Entombs the spirit that the Eternal gave. 
Yet look through these to Him, undaunted strive, 
Through drift and darkness, saving Faith alive, 
And He will be beside thee still, — uphold, 
Enlighten, cheer, with Love and Hope make bold, 
And in worst hours of fear, before His eye 
The mountain-ice, and gulfs of snow shall fly ; 
Thou on His rock shalt stand secure, and raise 
Thy wings towards Heaven, and hear its songs of 
praise. 



&fjat gout fatty mag bt fount* tit tye trag of tye 3Lortr 
lautiaMe, glorious, antf JjonouraMe. 

Sir Walter Raleigh. 

RISE, O my soul, with thy desires to Heaven, 
And with divinest contemplation use 
Thy Time, where Time's eternity is given, 

And let vain thoughts no more thy thoughts 
abuse : 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 67 

But down in darkness let them lie, 

So live thy better, let thy worse thoughts die. 

And thou, my soul, inspired with holy flame, 
View and review with most regardful eye 

That holy Cross whence thy salvation came, 
On which thy Saviour, and thy sin did die : 

For in that sacred object is much pleasure, 

And in that Saviour is my life, my treasure. 

To Thee (O Jesu) I direct my eye, 

To Thee my hands, to Thee my humble knees, 
To Thee my heart shall offer sacrifice, 

To Thee my thoughts, who my thoughts only 
sees : 
To Thee myself, myself and all I give ; 
To Thee I die, to Thee I only live. 



&o correct atttr amentr in gou fcrfjatsoeber tiotfj offmti ttyt 
eges of gottr f^eabmlg JFatfjer* 

PRAYER ANSWERED BY CROSSES, 

J. Newton. 

TASKED the Lord that I might grow 
In faith, and love, and every grace ; 
Might more of His salvation know, 
And seek more earnestly His face. 



68 HYMNS AND POEMS 

'Twas He who taught me thus to pray, 
And He, I trust, has answered prayer ; 

But it has been in such a way 
As almost drove me to despair. 

I hoped that in some favoured hour 
At once He'd answer my request ; 

And by His love's constraining power 
Subdue my sins, and give me rest. 

Instead of this He made me feel 
The hidden evils of my heart ; 

And let the angry powers of hell 
Assault my soul in every part. 

Yea, more, with His own hand He seemed 

Intent to aggravate my woe ; 
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed, 

Blasted my gourds, and laid them low. 

" Lord, why is this?" I trembling cried, 
" Wilt Thou pursue Thy worm to death ?" 

" 'Tis in this way," the Lord replied, 
" I answer prayer for grace and faith. 

" These inward trials I employ 

From self and pride to set thee free ; 

And break thy schemes of earthly joy, 
That thou mayest seek thy all in Me." 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 69 



Eo correct ant! ammti in gcu fofjatsoeber trotfj offmti tfje 
cges of goxir geabotlg jFatfjer* 

JEREMIAH X. 24. 

^ S. Wilberforce. 

NOT all at once, not in Thy wrath, O Lord, 
Break Thou these stubborn hearts of ours, 
we pray ! 
Not all at once, — for we are weak, and they 
Draw trembling back from that Thy fiery sword. 

But as a tender mother day by day 
Weans the weak babe she loves, lest it should pine, 
So wean us, Lord — so make us wholly Thine, 

Lest in our feebleness we start away 
From Thy loved chastening : for we could not bear 
The sudden vision of ourselves and Thee, 
Or learn at once how vain our bright hopes be. 
Then be our earthly weakness, Lord, Thy care, 
And e'en in wounding heal — in breaking spare. 



70 HYMNS AND POEMS 



&o correct antr amenti in gott fcrfjatsoeber tiotfj offettir tfje 
cges of gotir p^eabenlg JFatfjer* 

HYMN. 

THE THIRD DAY OF CREATION. 

(PART.) 

T. Whytehead. 

THOU spakest ; and the waters roll'd 
Back from the earth away, 
They fled, by Thy strong voice controll'd, 

Till Thou didst bid them stay : 
Then did that rushing mighty ocean 
Like a tame creature cease its motion, 
Nor dared to pass where'er Thy hand 
Had fixed its bound of slender sand. 

And freshly risen from out the deep 

The land lay tranquil now, 
Like a new-christened child asleep, 

With the dew upon its brow : 
As when in after time the Earth 
Rose from her second watery birth, 
In pure baptismal garments drest, 
And calmly waiting to be blest. 

Again Thou spakest, Lord of power, 
And straight the land was seen 

All clad with tree, and herb, and flower. 
A robe of lustrous green • 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 7 I 

Like souls wherein the hidden strength 
Of their new-birth is waked at length, 
When, robed in holiness, they tell 
What might did in those waters dwell. 

Lord, o'er the waters of my soul 

The word of power be said ; 
Its thoughts and passions bid Thou roll 

Each in its channell'd bed ; 
Till that in peaceful order flowing, 
They time their glad obedient going 
To Thy commands, whose voice to-day 
Bade the tumultuous floods obey. 

For restless as the moaning sea, 

The wild and wayward will 
From side to side is wearily 

Changing and tossing still ; 
But sway'd by Thee, 'tis like the river 
That down its green banks flows for ever, 
And, calm and constant, tells to all 
The blessedness of such sweet thrall. 

Then in my heart, Spirit of Might, 

Awake the life within, 
And bid a spring-tide, calm and bright, 

Of holiness begin : 
So let it lie with Heaven's grace 
Full shining on its quiet face, 
Like the young Earth in peace profound, 
Amid th' assuaged waters round. 

H 



72 HYMNS AND POEMS 



&a correct axis amctttf in gou ftifjatsoefter Ijntfr offentf tfje 
cges of gour gcabenlg Jatfjer* 

AFFLICTION. 

Henry VaugJtan. 

PEACE, peace ; It is not so. Thou dost mis- 
call 

Thy Physick ; Pills that change 
Thy sick Accessions into settled health ; 
This is.the great Elixir that turns gall 
To wine and sweetness, Poverty to wealth, 

And brings man home, when he doth range. 
Did not He, who ordain'd the day, 

Ordain night too ? 
And in the greater world display 
What in the lesser He would do ? 
All flesh is Clay, thou know'st ; and but that God 

Doth use His rod, 
And by a fruitful Change of frosts and showres 

Cherish and bind thy flow' rs, 
Thou wouldst to weeds and thistles quite disperse, 

And be more wild than is thy verse. 
Sickness is wholesome, Crosses are but curbs 

To check the mule, unruly man ; 
They are heaven's husbandry, the famous fan, 
Purging the floor which Chaff disturbs. 
Were all the year one constant Sun-shine, wee 

Should have no flowres ; 
All would be drought and leanness ; not a tree 
Would make us bowres. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 73 

Beauty consists in colours ; and that's best 

Which is not fixt, but flies and flowes. 
The settled Red is dull, and whites that rest 
Something of sickness would disclose. 
Vicissitude plaies all the game ; 
Nothing that stirrs, 
Or hath a name, 
But waits upon this wheel ; 
Kingdomes too have their Physick, and for steel 

Exchange their peace and 'funs. 
Thus doth God Key disorder'd man, 
which none else can, 
Tuning his brest to rise or fall ; 
And by a sacred, needfull art, 
Like strings, stretch ev'ry part, 
Making the whole most Musicall. 



Eentret tittto ^im ijttmftle tfjanftg for gis fatjtrlg Srisitattott, 
submitting sours^If iu^olls unto fgts OTtlL 

THE LENT JEWELS. 

A JEWISH TALE. 

Elegiac Poems. 

IN schools of wisdom all the day was spent : 
His steps at eve the Rabbi homeward bent, 
With homeward thoughts which dwelt upon the 

wife 
And two fair children who consoled his life. 



74 HYMNS AND POEMS 

She, meeting at the threshold, led him in, 
And with these words, preventing, did begin : 
" Ever rejoicing at your wished return, 
Yet do I most so now : for since this morn 
I have been much perplexed and sorely tried 
Upon one point, which you shall now decide. 
Some years ago, a friend into my care 
Some jewels gave, rich, precious gems they were ; 
But having given them in my charge, this friend 
Did afterward nor come for them, nor send, 
But left them in my keeping for so long, 
That now it almost seems to me a wrong 
That he should suddenly arrive to-day, 
To take those jewels, which he left, away. 
What think you ? Shall I freely yield them back, 
And with no murmuring ? — so henceforth to lack 
Those gems myself, which I had learned to see 
Almost as mine for ever, mine in fee." 

" What question can be here ? — Your own true 

heart 
Must needs advise you of the only part. 
That may be claimed again which was but lent, 
And should be yielded with no discontent : 
Nor surely can we find herein a wrong, 
That it was left us to enjoy it long." 

" Good is the word," she answered ; " may we 

now 
And evermore that it is good allow ! " 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 75 

And rising, to an inner chamber led, 

And there she showed him, stretched upon one 

bed, 
Two children pale, — and he the jewels knew, 
Which God had lent him and resumed anew. 



Eetttar unto 3§tm Jjttmfrle thanks for ?§fe fatfyet^ 
ttsttatum* 

COUPLETS. 

R. C. Trench. 

GUEST in a ruinous hut, thou loathest to 
depart : 
Were thine a finer house, 'twould prove a bitterer 
smart. 

God's dealings still are love — His chastenings are 

alone 
Love now compelled to take an altered louder tone. 

When thou hast thanked thy God for every blessing 

sent, 
What time will then remain for murmurs or lament ? 

Their windows and their doors some close — and 

murmuring say, 
The light of heaven ne'er sought into my house a 

way. 



76 HYMNS AND POEMS 

God often would enrich, but finds not where to 

place 
His treasure, nor in hand nor heart a vacant space. 

The oyster sickens while the pearl doth substance 

win : 
Thank God for pains that prove a noble growth 

within. 

Some are resign'd to go, — might we such grace 

attain, 
That we should need our resignation to remain. 

God's loudest threatenings speak of love and ten- 

derest care, 
For who, that wished his blow to light, would say, 

Beware ? 

What is our work when God a blessing would im- 
part ? 
To bring the empty vessel of a needy heart. 

Till life is coming back, our death we do not feel, 
Light must be entering in, our darkness to reveal. 

Ill fares the child of heaven who will not entertain 
On earth the stranger's grief, the exile's sense of 
pain. 

Acknowledge present good, or thou wilt need to. 

learn, — 
And by its loss, thy good, thy mercies to discern. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 77 

Ashes and dust thou art — allow it so to be, 

And from that moment forth it is not true for thee. 

To see the face of God, this makes the joy of 

heaven ; 
The purer then the eye, the more joy will be given. 

When God afflicts thee, think He hews a rugged 

stone, 
Which must be shaped, or else aside as useless 

thrown. 

'Tis ill with man when this is all he cares to know 
Of his own self, to wit, his vileness and his woe. 

God loves to work in wax, not marble — let Him 

find 
When He would mould thine heart, material to His 

mind. 

Wouldst thou abolish quite strongholds of self and 

sin? 
Fear can but make the breach for Love to enter in. 

To cure thee of thy pride, that deepest seated ill, 
God humbled His Own Self — wilt thou thy pride 
keep still ? 

He knew, who healed our wounds, we quickly 

should be fain 
Our old hurts to forget — so let the scars remain. 



78 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Why win we not at once what we in prayer re- 
quire ? 
That we may learn great things as greatly to desire. 

One furnace many times the good and bad will 

hold: 
Yet what consumes the chaff will only cleanse the 

gold 



fomtar unto ?§tm Jjxtmfcle tfjattfej far J^ts fatfjerls 
frtsttattan, 

A ubrey de Vere. 

COUNT each affliction, whether light or grave, 
God's messenger sent down to thee. Do thou 
With courtesy receive him : rise and bow : 
And, ere his shadow pass thy threshold, crave 
Permission first his heavenly feet to lave, 
Then lay before him all thou hast. Allow 
No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow, 
Or mar thy hospitality, no wave 
Of mortal tumult to obliterate 
Thy soul's marmoreal calmness. Grief should be 
Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate, 
Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free : 
Strong to consume small troubles ; to commend 
Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to 
the end. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING jg 



Emtier unto ?§tm fjumfole tfyanfe for f§fe fatfjerlg 
ijtsttattort. 



E. M. 



THOUGHTS IN AFFLICTION. 

OTHOU, my kind chastising God, 
Help me to own Thy sway ; 
Teach me to bend beneath Thy rod, 
And cast my pride away. 



Have I then wished, (presumptuous thought !) 

The weight of sorrow less, 
Or e'er with earthly weapons fought 

Against my deep distress ? — 

Teach me with meek submissive awe 

To own Thy sovereign will, 
E'en from Thy rod my comforts draw, 

And weep, but thank Thee still. 

And O, if those, once sent by Thee 

To soothe the bitter tear, 
Now seem Thy messengers to be 

Of judgments more severe, — 

Let me Thy ruling hand discern, 

Thy voice of mercy know, 
And from Thy gentle teaching learn 

To seek no bliss below. 



8o HYMNS AND POEMS 

A mourner through this gloomy vale 
'Tis meet Thy child should go, 

Until Thy mighty hand prevail 
To conquer every foe. 

For Thou hast said, an hour should come 

When, at Thy high behest, 
Earth shall prepare Thy saints a home, 

And Thou amidst them rest ! 



i&mto unto J^ttn fynmUt tfjanfta for gis fatJjerig 
fctsttatiotu 

FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

FROM THE EPISTLE. 

J. Moultrie. 

REJOICE in Christ alway— 
When earth looks heavenly bright, 
When joy makes glad the livelong day, 

And peace shuts in the night. 
Rejoice, when care and woe 

The fainting soul oppress, — 
When tears at wakeful midnight flow, 
And morn brings heaviness. 

Rejoice, when festal boughs 

Our winter walls adorn, 
And Christians greet, with hymns and vows, 

The Saviour's natal morn. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



Rejoice when mourning weeds 
The widowed Church doth wear, 

In memory of her Lord who bleeds, 
While Christian's fast to prayer. 

Rejoice in hope and fear, — 

Rejoice in life and death, — 
Rejoice, when threatening storms are near, 

And comfort languisheth. 
When should not they rejoice 

Whom Christ His brethren calls — 
Who hear and know His guiding voice 

When on their hearts it falls ? 

Yet not to rash excess 

Let joy like ours prevail ; — 
Feast not on earth's deliciousness, 

Till faith begin to fail. 
Our temperate use of bliss — 

Let it to all appear ; 
And be our constant watchword this — - 

" The Lord Himself is near ! " 

Take anxious care for nought, — 

To God your wants make known, 
And soar, on wings of heavenly thought, 

Toward His eternal throne. 
So, though our path is steep, 

And many a tempest lours, 
Shall His own peace our spirits keep, 

And Christ's dear love be ours. 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



Submitting pttmlf fofjoflg tmto gts fain* 

" The Child's Christian Year J 



OLORD ! how happy should we be 
If we could cast our care on Thee, 
If we from self could rest ; 
And feel at heart that One above 
In perfect wisdom, perfect love, 
Is working for the best. 

ii. 

How far from this our daily life ! 
Ever disturbed by anxious strife, 

By sudden wild alarms ; 
O could we but relinquish all 
Our earthly props, and simply fall 

On Thy Almighty arms ! 

in. 

Could we but kneel, and cast our load, 
E'en while we pray, upon our God, 

Then rise with lightened cheer ; 
Sure that the Father, who is nigh 
To still the famish'd ravens' cry, 

Will hear, in that we fear. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 8$ 

IV. 

We cannot trust Him as we should, 
So chafes fallen nature's restless mood 

To cast its peace away ; 
Yet birds and flowrets round us preach 
All, all the present evil teach 

Sufficient for the day. 

v. 

Lord, make these faithless hearts of ours 
Such lesson learn from birds and flowers, 

Make them from self to cease ; 
Leave all things to a Father's will, 
And taste, before Him lying still, 

E'en in affliction, peace. 



%nbmxttin$ pttrself fofallg unto fijts ML 

Charles Wesley. 

OTHOU whose wise paternal love 
Hath brought my active spirit down — 
Thy will I thankfully approve ; 

And, prostrate at Thy gracious Throne, 
I offer up my life's remains ? 
I choose the state my God ordains. 



84 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Cast as a broken vessel by, 
Thy work I can no longer do ; 

But while a daily death I die, 

Thy power I may in weakness show. 

My patience may Thy glory raise, 

My speechless woe proclaim Thy praise. 

But since, without Thy Spirit's might, 
Thou know'st I nothing can endure, 

The aid I ask in Jesu's right— 

The strength He did for me procure — 

Father, abundantly impart, 

And arm with love my feeble heart. 

O may I live of Thee possess'd 
In weakness, weariness, and pain ; 

The anguish of my throbbing breast, 
The daily cross, may I sustain, 

For Him who languished on the tree, 

But lived, before He died, for me. 



Stfrntittrng gottrself foffotlg mta fgts fotIL 

Cowper. 

OLORD, my best desire fulfil, 
And help me to resign 
Life, health, and comfort, to Thy will, 
And make Thy pleasure mine. 



FOR THE SICK AXD SUFFERING 



Why should I shrink at Thy command, 
Whose love forbids my fears ; 

Or tremble at the gracious hand 
That wipes away my tears ? 

No, let me rather freely yield 
What most I prize to Thee ; 

Who never hast a good withheld, 
Or wilt withhold from me. 

Thy favour all my journey through, 

Thou hast engaged to grant ; 
What else I want, or think I do, 

'Tis better still to want. 

Wisdom and mercy guide my way ; 

Shall I resist them both ? 
The poor blind creature of a day, 

And crushed before the moth \ 

But ah ! my inward spirit cries — 

Still bind me to Thy sway ; 
Else the next cloud that veils my skies, 

Drives all these thoughts away. 



86 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Submitting gGumlf fcrfjollg unto fgis foitt* 

SUBMISSION. 

(part. ) 

Bishop Ken. 

LIKE Thy blest self, Lord, teach me to submit 
To all my Heavenly Father shall think fit : 
To yield the full subjection of a son, 
Pray — " Father, not my will, but Thine, be done." 
He ever lives, unviolenced by ill, 
Who, to his God devoted, has no will. 
Since Thou my Father art, O God, I right 
Claim in Thy boundless goodness, wisdom, might : 
Thy wisdom will my soul in doubts direct ; 
Thy might will in calamities protect ; 
Thy goodness ne'er will causelessly afflict ; 
With all the three I'll keep an union strict : 
They'll me proportion what for me is best, 
In their disposal, I'll entirely rest. 
I unto Thee refund my borrowed mind, 
To centre in Thee by a will resigned. 



Submitting jroursel! fofjollg unto f^is foilL 
THE SEA-BIRD. 



I 



'VE watch'd the sea-bird calmly glide 
Unruffled o'er the ocean tide : 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 87 

Unscared she heard the waters roar 
In foaming breakers on the shore ; 
Fearless of ill, herself she gave 
To rise upon the lifting wave, 
Or sink, to be awhile unseen, 
The undulating swells between : 
Till, as the evening shadows grew, 
Noiseless, unheard, aloft she flew. 
While soaring to her rock-built nest 
A sunbeam lighted on her breast, — 
A moment glittered in mine eye, 
Then quickly vanished through the sky. 

While by the pebbly beach I stood, 
That sea-bird, on the waving flood, 
Pictured to my enraptured eye 
A soul at peace with God : — Now high, 
Now low, upon the gulf of life 
Raised or depressed, in peace or strife, 
Calmly she kens the changeful wave, 
She dreads no storm — she fears no grave ; 
To her, the world's tumultuous roar 
Dies like the echo on the shore. 
" Father ! Thy pleasure all fulfil, 
I yield me to Thy sovereign will ; 
Let earthly comforts ebb or rise, 
Tranquil on Thee my soul relies." 
Then, as advance the shades of night, 
Long plumed, she takes her heavenward flight ; 
But, as she mounts, I see her fling 
A beam of glory from her wing, — 
1 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



A moment— to my aching sight 
Lost in the boundless fields of light ! 



Submitting yourself fofyollg unto p?is ML 

Bishop Ken. 

SINCE 'tis God's will — pam, take your course, 
Exert on me your utmost force — 
I well God's truth and promise know ; 
He never sends a woe, 
But His supports divine 
In due proportion with the affliction join. 

Though I am frailest of mankind, 
And apt to waver as the wind — 
Though me no feeble bruised reed 

In weakness can exceed — 

My soul on God relies, 
And I your fierce, redoubled shocks despise. 

Patient, resigned, and humble wills 

Impregnably resist all ills. 

My God will guide me by His light, 

Give me victorious might : 

No pang can me invade, 
Beneath His wings' propitious shade. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 89 



Stibmtttmg gourself fofjollg unto p?ts brill* 

ON HIS BLINDNESS. 

Milton 

WHEN I consider how my light is spent, 
Ere half my days, in this dark world and 
wide, 
And that one talent which is death to hide, 
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent 
To serve therewith my Maker, and present 
My true account, lest He, returning, chide, — 
" Doth God exact day-labour, light denied ?" 
I fondly ask — But Patience, to prevent 
That murmur, soon replies — " God doth not need 
Either man's work, or His own gifts ; who best 
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best : His state 
Is kingly ; — thousands at His bidding speed 
And post o'er land and ocean without rest : 
They also serve who only stand and wait ! " 



&tibmtttmg sottrsetf foljollg tinto gts ML 

J. S. MonselZ. 

MY Father and my God, 
O set this spirit free ! 
I'd gladly kiss the rod 
That drove my trembling soul to Thee, 
And made it Thine eternally. 



90 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Sweet were the bitterest smart, 
That with the bended knee 
Would bow this broken heart ; 
For who, my Saviour, who could be 
A sufferer long, that flies to Thee ? 

The tears we shed for sin 
When heaven alone can see, 
Leave truer peace within 
Than worldly smiles, which cannot be 
Lit up, my God, with smiles from Thee. 

Then give me any lot, 
I'll bless Thy just decree, 
So Thou art not forgot, 
And I may ne'er dependent be 
On any friend, my God, but Thee ! 

As needle to the pole, 
There fix'd, but tremblingly, — 
Such be my trusting soul, 
Whate'er life's variations be, 
For ever pointing, Lord, to Thee ! 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 9T 



JSufomtttng gourself fofjoflg tmto |§ts frrtIL 
THE CHILD. 



y. Netvton. 



QUIET, Lord, my fro ward heart, 
Make me teachable and mild, 
Upright, simple, free from art, 
Make me as a weaned child : 
From distrust and envy free, 
Pleased with all that pleases Thee. 

What Thou shalt to-day provide 

Let me as a child receive ; 
What to-morrow may betide 
Calmly to Thy wisdom leave : 
'Tis enough that Thou wilt care, 
Why should I the burden bear ? 

As a little child relies 

On a care beyond its own ; 
Knows he's neither strong nor wise — 
Fears to stir a step alone — 
Let me thus with Thee abide, 
As my Father, Guard, and Guide. 



92 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Thus preserved from Satan's wiles, 

Safe from dangers, free from fears, 
May I live upon Thy smiles, 
Till the promised hour appears, 
When the sons of God shall prove 
All their Father's boundless love. 



Submitting yourself foijollg unto J§is foill. 
THE RESIGNATION. 

J. Nor r is. 

LONG have I viewed, long have I thought, 
And held with trembling hand this bitter 
draught : 
'Twas now just to my lips applied ; 
Nature shrank in, and all my courage died, — 

But now resolv'd and firm I'll be, 
Since, Lord, 'tis mingled and reach'd out by Thee. 

Since 'tis Thy sentence I should part 
With the most precious treasure of my heart, 

I freely that and more resign ; 
My heart itself, as its delight, is Thine ; 

My little all I give to Thee — 
Thou gavest a greater gift, Thy Son, to me. 

He left true bliss and joys above, 
Himself He emptied of all good, but love ; 

For me He freely did forsake 
More good than He from me can ever take, 

A mortal life for a divine 
He took, and did at last even that resign. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



Take all, great God ; I will not grieve ; 
But still will wish that I had still to give. 

I hear Thy voice ; Thou bidd'st me quit 
My paradise — I bless and do submit. 

I will not murmur at Thy word, 
Nor beg Thy angel to sheath up his sword. 



Et sfjail turn to gour profit, antf fjelp gotr frrfoarti in tfje 
rtgfjt foas tljat leatotfj unto eforlastmg life. 



S' 



k AVIOUR ! beneath Thy yoke 
My wayward heart doth pine, 
All unaccustomed to the stroke 
Of love divine : 
Thy chastisements, my God, are hard to bear, 
Thy cross is heavy for frail flesh to wear. 

" Perishing child of clay ! 

Thy sighing I have heard ; 
Long have I marked thy evil way 
How thou hast erred ; 
Yet fear not — by My own most holy Name 
I will shed healing through thy sin-sick frame." 

Praise to Thee, gracious Lord ! 

I fain would be at rest, 
O now fulfil Thy faithful word, 
And make me blest : 
My soul would lay her heavy burden down, 
And take with joyfulness the promised crown. 



94 HYMNS AND POEMS 

" Stay, thou short-sighted child ! 
There is much first to do ; 
Thy heart so long by sin defiled, 
I must renew : 
Thy will must here be taught to bend to mine, 
Or the sweet peace of Heaven can ne'er be thine." 

Yea, Lord, but Thou can'st soon 

Perfect Thy work in me, 
Till, like the pure calm summer moon, 
I shine by Thee ; 
A moment shine, that all Thy power may trace, 
Then pass in stillness to my heavenly place. 

" Ah, coward soul ! confess 

Thou shrinkest from My cure, 
Thou tremblest at the sharp distress 
Thou must endure ; 
The foes on every hand for war arrayed ; 
The thorny path in tribulation laid ; 

" The process slow of years, 
The discipline of life, — 
Of outward woes and secret tears, 
Sickness and strife, — 
The idols taken from thee one by one, 
Till thou canst dare to live with Me alone. 

" Some gentle souls there are 
Who yield unto My love, 
Who, ripening fast beneath My care, 
I soon remove; 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 95 

But thou stiff-necked art and hard to rule, 
Thou must stay longer in affliction's school." 

My Maker and my King ! 
Is this Thy love to me ? 

that I had the lightning's wing 

From earth to flee, — 
How can I bear the heavy weight of woes 
Thine indignation on Thy creature throws ? 

" Thou canst not, O my child, 
So hear My voice again — 

1 will bear all thy anguish wild, 

Thy grief — thy pain ; 
My arms shall be around thee day by day, 
My smile shall cheer thee on thy heavenward way, 

" In sickness I will be 

Watching beside thy bed. 
In sorrow thou shalt lean on Me 
Thy aching head, 
In every struggle thou shalt conqueror prove, 
Nor death itself shall sever from My love." 

O grace beyond compare ! 

O love most high and pure ! 
Saviour begin, no longer spare — 
I can endure : 
Only vouchsafe Thy grace that I may live 
Unto Thy glory who canst so forgive. 



THE EXHORTATION. 

SECOND PART. 

Sake therefore in goob part tlje chastisement 
of tl)e J,orb : Jfor (as ^aitxt Paul saitl) in ttje 
tmelftl) chapter to tlje Hebrero^) rol}om tl)e |Lorb 
lonetl) He cfyastenetl), anb scourgetl) energ son 
mi)om H e receitietl). K ge enbure chastening, 
(gob bealett) roitl) gou as mitl) sons ; for ml)at 
son is I)e toljom tlje Jfatfyer djastenetl) noU |gttt 
if . ge be toittyout chastisement, roljereof all are 
partakers, tfyen are ge bastarbs aub not sons, 
^furthermore, toe Jjase Ijab Jfatfyers of our flesl), 
toljiri) correcteb us, anb toe gane tl)em renerence : 
Sljall toe not mud) ratljer be in subjection unto 
ttje Jfatfyer of Spirits, anb line ? /or tljeg nerilg 
for a feto bags cljasteneb us after tl)eir oton plea- 
Sure ; but He for our profit, tljat toe migljt be 
partakers of His holiness. 

Sfyese morbs, goob brother, are written in H°lB 
Scripture for our comfort anb instruction ; tl)at 
toe styoulb patientlg, anb mitl) tfyanksgioing, bear 
our tjeanenlg JfatJjer's correction, toljensoener bg 
ang manner of absersitg it sljall please H^ 9 ra - 



97 



cious gooiiness to titbit us. $,ni tljere jsljotttb be 
no greater comfort to Christian persons tljan to 
be mabe like unto (Jurist, bg buffering patient lg 
adversities, troubles, anil sicknesses* /or He 
Himself toent not nip to jog, but first He suffered 
pain ; H* entereb not into H^ glorg before *§- 
mas crucifieb. j&o trulg our toag to eternal jog 
is to puffer Ijere roitl) (lyrist ; anb onr boor to 
enter into eternal life is glablg to bie xvitl) florist ; 
tljat toe mag rise again from beatl), anb bmell mitl) 
Him in everlasting life. 

fiom therefore, taking gonr sickness toljicl) is 
tf)us profitable for gon, patientlg, I esljort gou, 
in tl)e jlame of (Sob, to remember tt)t profession 
toljicl) gon mabe unto ©oft in gonr baptism, Jlnb 
forasmud) as after tljis life tljere is an account 
to be given unto tlje righteous lubge, bg xol)om 
all must be jubgeb, toit!)ont respect of persons, I 
require gou to examine gourself anb gour estate, 
boti) totoarb (Sob anb man ; so tl)at t accusing 
anb condemning gourself for gour oton faults, 
gou mag finb mercg at our Jjeavenlg Jfatfyer's 
Ijanb for (Jurist's sake, anb net be accused anb 
conbemneb in t!)at fearfxxl judgment. 

2fl)erefore I sljall rehearse to gou t!)e Articles 
of our Jfaitl), tijat gou mag knoto m!]et!)er gou bo 
believe as a Christian man sljonlb, or no. 



98 HYMNS AND POEMS 



&afce therefore in gooto part tfje cfjasttsemmt of tlje Horti : 

Elegiac Poems. 

\T 7 HAT, many times I musing asked, is man, 

V V If grief and care 

Keep far from him ? he knows not what he can, 
What cannot bear. 

He, till the fire hath purged him, doth remain 

Mixed all with dross : 
To lack the loving discipline of pain 

Were endless loss. 

Yet when my Lord did ask me on what side 

I were content 
The grief whereby I must be purified, 

To me were sent, 

As each imagined anguish did appear, 

Each withering bliss 
Before my soul, I cried, " Oh ! spare me here, 

Oh no, not this ! — " 

Like one that having need of, deep within, 

The surgeon's knife, 
Would hardly bear that it should graze the skin, 

Though for his life. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 99 

Nay then but He, who best doth understand 

Both what we need, 
And what can bear, did take my case in hand, 

Nor crying heed. 



TOfjom tfje Eorti lobetfj ge djastenctf;, anti scourgetlj 
eberg son fofjom %z remfotij* 

Cawper. 

1 * T ^IS my happiness below 

±_ Not to live without the cross, 
But the Saviour's power to know, 

Sanctifying every loss. 
Trials must and will befal, 

But with humble faith to see 
Love inscribed upon them all, 

This is happiness to me. 

God in Israel sows the seeds 

Of affliction, pain, and toil ; 
These spring up and choke the weeds 

Which would else o'erspread the soil. 
Trials make the promise sweet, 

Trials give new life to prayer, 
Trials bring me to His feet, 

Lay me low, and keep me there. 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



Did I meet no trials here, 

No chastisement by the way, 
Might I not with reason fear 

I should prove a castaway ? 
Bastards may escape the rod, 

Sunk in earthly vain delight ; 
But the true-born child of God 

Must not, would not, if he might 



&afte therefore in pot* part tfje chastisement of tfje 3Lor& : 

* E. F. 

MUCH have I borne, but not as I should 
bear;— 
The proud will unsubdued, the formal prayer, 
Tell me Thou yet wilt chide, Thou canst not spare, 

O Lord, Thy chastening rod ! 
O help me, Father ! for my sinful heart 
Back from this discipline of grief would start, 
Unmindful of His sorer, deeper smart, 

Who died for me, my God ! 

Yet, if each wish denied, each woe and pain, 
Break but some link of that oppressive chain 
Which binds me still to earth, and leaves a stain 
Thou only canst remove — 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING IOI 

Then am I blest — O bliss from man concealed ! 
If here to Christ, the weak one's Tower and Shield 
My heart through sorrow be set free to yield 
A service of deep love. 



£afo IJjmfcirc in goo) part tfjc cfjastisnrtent of tfje 3Lortf : 
THE PULLEY. 

George Herbert. 

WHEN God at first made man, 
Having a glass of blessings standing by, 
" Let us," said He, ib 'pour on him all we can ; 
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie. 
Contract into a span." 

So Strength first made away ; 
Then Beauty flowed ; then AVisdom, Honour, Plea- 
sure : 
When almost all was out, God made a stay, 
Perceiving that alone of all his treasure 
Rest in the bottom lay. 

" For if I should," said He, 
" Bestow this jewel also on my creature, 

He would adore My gifts instead of Me. 
And rest in nature, not the God of nature ; — 

So both should losers be. 



IC2 HYMXS AXD POEMS 

" Ye: let him keep the restj 
But keep them with repining restlessness : 

Let him be rich, and wean* ; that at least 
If goodness lead him nor. riness 

May toss him to my breast." 



vtafcr trjrrrfcTf in gootj part rrjr ctiastisrmnTt of tfje larD : 
TO GOD. 



Ben Jonson. 



HEAR me.. God ! 
A broken heart 
Is my rest part : 
Use still Thy rod. 
That I may prove 
Therein Thy love. 

If thou hadst not 
Been stern to me, 
But left me free. 

I had forget 

Myself and Thee. 

For sin's so sweet 
As minds ill bent 
Rarely repent, 

Until they meet 
Their punishment 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 103 



Who more can crave 

Than Thou hast done ? 

That gav'st a Son 
To free a slave : 

First made of nought ; 

Withal since bought. 

Sin, death, and hell, 
His glorious name 
Quite overcame ; 

Yet I rebel, 

And slight the same. 

But I'll come in, 
Before my loss 
Me further toss — 

As sure to win 
Under His cross. 



&ake therefore in gooU part tfje chastisement of tfje Hot* : 
LOVE, AND DISCIPLINE. 

Henry Vaughan. 

SINCE in a land not barren still, 
Because Thou dost Thy grace distill, 
My lot is fall'n, blest be Thy will ! 



104 HYMNS AND POEMS 

And since these biting frosts but kill 
Some tares in me which choke or spill 
That seed Thou sow'st, blest be Thy skill ! 

Blest be Thy dew, and blest Thy frost, 
And happy I to be so crost, 
And cur'd by crosses at Thy cost. 

The dew doth cheer what is distrest, 
The frosts ill weeds nip and molest, 
In both Thou work'st unto the best. 

Thus while Thy sev'ral mercies plot, 
And work on me, now cold now hot, 
The work goes on, and slacketh not ; 

For as Thy hand the weather steers, 
So thrive I best 'twixt joyes and tears, 
And all the year have some green ears. 



M |re entmre chastening, ffiotr fcealctf; fottfy gem as bity 
sons* ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ $2Ee sfjoultr pattmtlg, an& frttfj tfjanftsgiiring, 
bear our ijeabenls JFatfjefs correction. 

BEREAVEMENT. 

Elizabeth B. Barrett. 

WHEN some beloveds, 'neath whose eyelids 
lay 
The sweet lights of my childhood, one by one 
Did leave me dark before the natural sun, 
And I astonied fell, and could not pray ; 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 105 

A thought within me to myself did say, — 

" Is God less God, that thou art mortal sad ? 

Rise, worship, bless Him, in this sackcloth clad, 

As in that purple !" — But I answer, nay ! 

What child his filial heart in words conveys, 

If him for very good his father choose 

To smite ? What can he, but with sobbing breath 

Embrace the unwilling hand which chasteneth ? 

And my dear Father, thinking fit to bruise, 

Discerns in silent tears both prayer and praise. 



&fjall foe not mttcfj ratfyer bt in subjection tmto tfje jFatfjet 
of spirits, anHItbe? 

THE LONE ROCK. 

T. V. Fosbery. 

THERE is a single stone 
Above yon wave, 
A rocky islet lone — 
Where tempests rave. 

What doth it there ?— The sea, 

Restless and deep, 
Breaks round it mournfully, 

And knows no sleep. 

The sea hath hung it round 

With its wild weed, 
No place can there be found 

For better seed. 



106 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Storm-beaten rock ! no change 
'Tis thine to know, 

Only the water's range 
Of ebb and flow. 

The happy sounds of earth 

Are not for thee, 
The voice of human mirth- — 

Of children's glee : 

No song of birds is thine, 
No crown of flowers ! 

Say, dost thou not repine 
Through long lone hours ? 

Yet stars for thee are bright 

In midnight skies, 
And tranquil worlds of light 

Around thee rise : 

They smooth thine ocean-bed, 

Its heavings cease, 
While they, from o'er thy head, 

Breathe on thee peace. 

The wearied man of grief 

Like thee I deem, 
To whom comes no relief 

Through life's dark dream. 






FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING I07 

No human ties are left, 

Earth's hopes are gone ; 
He dwells, a thing bereft — 

Blighted — alone. 

Yet o'er him from above 

Bright spirits bend ; 
And He whose name is Love, 

Calls him His friend; 

And thus he thankful learns 

Why grief was given, 
And trusting, peaceful, turns 

To God in Heaven. 



CJjese foortrs, gootf brother, are frrritten in f^olg Scripture 
fire our comfort atft instruction ; 

Cowfier. 

O CHILD of Sorrow, be it thine to know 
That Scripture only is the cure of woe : 
That field of promise — how it flings abroad 
Its perfume o'er the Christian's thorny road. 
The soul, reposing in assured belief, 
Feels herself happy amidst all her grief ; 
Forgets her labour as she toils along, 
Weeps tears of joy, and bursts into a song. 

Ascribed to Henry Martyn. 

SAY would'st thou live? This hallowed page 
shall tell 
Where life's best joys and holiest pleasures dwell : 



Io8 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Say must thou die ? Ah ! prize this sacred lore, 
That points to worlds where death can wound no 

more : 
Living or dying, this shall soothe each pain, 
Whispering — " To live is Christ, to die is gain." 



{£fjat foe gfjouto pattentlg, atttr fottfj tf^ttftsjytbmg, fcear our 
fjeabenlg Jatfjer's correction; 



MARK X. 39. 

-AND THEY SAY UNTO HIM, WE CAN." 

S. Wilberforce. 

H ! little knew I, Lord, when Thou wouldst first 



A 



Allure my trembling soul to Thy dear side, 
And bid me, sheltered there, in peace abide ; 
When I did pray as they two prayed erst 
Of Thine own cup to slake their spirits' thirst, 
And to sit by Thee one day glorified : 
Ah ! little knew I how it must betide 
With youth's bright hopes, and my young spirit's 

burst ; 
How — pale, and sad, and trembling, I should see 
Earth's visions, one by one, fade all away ; 
How this warm heart should torn and riven be, 
How bitter tears should feed me night and day, 
Ere on thy love my soul her all would stay, 
Or walk this busy earth alone with Thee. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 3 09 



Gffjat foe sfjotilU patiently, antr fottfr transcribing, tear our 
fjeabcnls JFatfjcr's correction; 

DESOLATION. 

(PART.) 

67r y. Beaumont. 

THIS then must be the med'eine for my woes, 
To yield to what my Saviour shall dispose ; 
To glory in my baseness; 1 to rejoice 
In mine afflictions ; to obey His voice, 
As well when threatenings my defects reprove, 
As when I cherished am with words of love ; 
To say to Him in every time and place — 
Withdraw Thy comforts, so Thou leave Thy grace. 



Gtfjat foe sfjoulti patiently, artti frttfr tfjanftsgibincr, foear cut 
fyeabenlg jFatljcr's correction; 

"REJOICE EVERMORE." 

R. C. Trench. 
I. 

BUT how should we be glad ? 
We that are journeying through a vale of tears, 
Encompast with a thousand woes and fears, 
How should we not be sad ? 

1 i.e. abasement. 



IIO HYMNS AND POEMS 

II. 

Angels that ever stand 
Within the presence-chamber, and there raise 
The never-interrupted hymn of praise, 

May welcome this command. 

in. 

Or they whose strife is o'er, 
Who all their weary length of life have trod, 
As pillars now within the temple of God, 

That shall go out no more. 

IV. 

But we who wander here, 
We that are exiled in this gloomy place, 
Still doomed to water earth's unthankful face 

With many a bitter tear — 

v. 

Bid us lament and mourn, 
Bid us that we go mourning all the day, 
And we will find it easy to obey, 

Of our best things forlorn ; 

VI. 

But not that we be glad ; 
If it be true the mourners are the blest, 
O leave us, in a world of sin, unrest, 

And trouble, to be sad. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING III 

VII. 

I spake, and thought to weep, 
For sin and sorrow, suffering and crime, 
That fill the world, all mine appointed time 

A settled grief to keep. 

VIII. 

When lo ! as day from night, 
As day from out the womb of night forlorn, 
So from that sorrow was that gladness born, 

Even in mine own despite. 

IX. 

Yet was not that by this 
Excluded, at the coming of that joy 
Fled not that grief, nor did that grief destroy 

The newly-risen bliss : 



But side by side they flow, 
Two fountains flowing from one smitten heart, 
And oft-times scarcely to be known apart — 

That gladness and that woe ; 

XI. 

Two fountains from one source, 
Or which from two such neighbouring sources run, 
That aye for him who shall unseal the one, 

The other flows perforce. 



112 HYMNS AND POEMS 

XII. 

And both are sweet and calm, 
Fair flowers upon the banks of either blow, 
Both fertilize the soil, and where they flow 

Shed round them holy balm. 



&fjat foe sfjouto patiently, attti fottfj tfjanftsgftmg, tear our 
fteatanlg jfatfjer's correction; 

ST. JOHN'S DAY. 
St. John xxi. 21, 22. 

J. Keble. 

" T ORD, and what shall this man do ?" 

1 4 Ask'st thou, Christian, for thy friend ? 

If his love for Christ be true, 

Christ hath told thee of his end : 
This is he whom God approves, 
This is he whom Jesus loves. 

Ask not of him more than this, 

Leave it in his Saviour's breast, 
Whether, early call'd to bliss, 

He in youth shall find his rest, 
Or armed in his station wait 
Till his Lord be at the gate : 

Whether in his lonely course 

(Lonely, not forlorn) he stay, 
Or with Love's supporting force, 

Cheat the toil and cheer the way : 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 1 3 

Leave it all in His high hand, 

Who doth hearts as streams command. 1 

Gales from heaven, if so He will, 

Sweeter melodies can wake 
On the lonely mountain rill 

Than the meeting waters make. 
Who hath the Father and the Son, 
May be left, but not alone. 

Sick or healthful, slave or free, 
Wealthy, or despised and poor — 

What is that to him or thee, 
So his love to Christ endure ? 

When the shore is won at last, 

Who will count the billows past ? 

Only, since our souls will shrink 

At the touch of natural grief, 
When our earthly loved ones sink, 

Lend us, Lord, Thy sure relief; 
Patient hearts, their pain to see, 
And Thy grace, to follow Thee. 



Gffjat foe sfjoulti pattentlg, antr fottf; tfjanftsgftmg, frear our 
ffeabenlg Jutfjer's correction ; 

R. C. Trench. 

OTHOU of dark forebodings drear, 
O thou of such a faithless heart, 
Hast thou forgotten what thou art, 
That thou hast ventured so to fear ? 

1 Prov xxi. 1. 



114 HYMNS AND POEMS 

No weed on Ocean's bosom cast, 
Borne by its never-resting foam 
This way and that, without an home, 
Till flung on some bleak shore at last — 

But thou, the Lotus, which above 
Swayed here and there by wind and tide, 
Yet still below doth fixed abide, 
Fast rooted in the eternal Love. 



Efjat foe sfjoultf pattmtlg, atttr fottfj tftattfegi&mjj, foear our 
fjeabenlg Jatfyer's correction; 

REJOICING IN TRIBULATION. 

Emily Taylor. 

WHEN summer suns their radiance fling 
O'er every bright and beauteous thing; 
When, strong in faith, the evil day 
Of pain and grief seems far away ; 
When sorrow, soon as felt, is gone, 
And smooth the stream of life glides on ; 
When duty, cheerful, chosen, free, 
Brings her own prompt reward to thee ; — 
'Tis easy, then, my soul to raise 
The grateful song of heavenly praise. 

But, worn and languid, day and night, 
To see the same unchanging sight, 
To feel the rising morn can bring 
Nor health, nor ease, upon its wing, 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 1 5 

Nor form of beauty can create, 
The languid sense to renovate ; 
To look within, and feel the mind 
Full charged with blessings for mankind ; 
Then gazing round this little room, 
To whisper, " This must be thy doom ; 
Here must thou struggle ; here, alone, 
Repress tired nature's rising moan :" 
O then, my soul, how hard to raise, 
In such an hour, the song of praise. 

To look on all this scene of tears, 

Of doubts, of wishes, hopes, and fears, 

As some preluding strain that tries 

Our discords and our harmonies ; 

To think how many a jarring string 

The Master-hand in tune may bring \ 

How, " finely-touched," the soul of pride 

May sink, subdued and rectified ; 

How, taught its inmost self to know, 

May bless the hand which gave the blow — 

Each root of bitterness removed, 

Each plant of heavenly grace improved ; — 

Instructed thus, who would not raise 

To Heaven his song of cheerful praise ? 

To feel declining, day by day, 
Each harsher murmur die away, 
And secret springs of joy arise, 
To lighten up the weary eyes ; 
A hand invisible to feel, 
Wounding, with kind design to heal, 



1 1 6 HYMNS AND POEMS 

In every bitter draught to think 

Of Him, who learned that cup to drink ; 

Again and oft again to look 

In rapture on that blessed Book, 

Whose soothing words proclaim to thee 

That, "as thy day thy strength shall be :" 

Then, with changed heart, and stedfast mind, 

High Heaven before, and earth behind, 

Thy path of pain again to tread 

Till earth receives thy wearied head — 

O blessed lot ! who would not raise, 

In life or death, the song of praise ? 



Wqm sfjoulti bt no greater comfort to (£fjristian persons 
tfjan to bt matre lifo unto (Efjrist, fog suffering pattentlg afc* 
frerstttes, troubles, anK sicknesses* 

" Hickes 1 Devotions" 

,/ TH*IS not for us and our proud hearts, 
JL O mighty Lord, to choose our parts, 
But act well what Thou giv'st ; 
'Tis not in our weak power to make 
One step o' th' way we undertake, 
Unless Thou us reliev'st. 

What Thou hast given Thou canst take, 
And, when Thou wilt, new gifts can make, 

All flows from Thee alone : 
When Thou didst give it, it was Thine ; 
When Thou retook'st it, 'twas not mine : 

Thy will in all be done. 



FOR THE SICK AXD SUFFERING 117 

It might perhaps too pleasant prove, 
Too much attractive of my love. 

And make me less love Thee : 
Some things there are, Thy Scriptures say, 
And Reason proves, that Heaven and they 

Do seldom well agree. 

Lord, let me then sit calmly down. 
And rest contented with my own, 

This is what Thou allow'st. 
Keep Thou my mind serene and free, 
Often to think of Heaven and Thee, 

And what Thou there bestow'st. 

There let me have my portion, Lord ; 
There all my losses be restored, 

Xo matter what falls here. 
Is't not enough that Ave shall sing 
And love for ever our blest King, 

Whose goodness brought us there ? 

Great God, as Thou art One, may we 
With one another all agree, 

And in Thy praise conspire : 
May men and angels join and sins: 

J CD J O 

Eternal hymns to Thee their King, 
And make up all one choir. 

Amen. 



Il8 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Wtjm sfjoultr foe no greater comfort to &fjrtsttan persons, 
tftart to bz mate like unto Cfjrtst, bg suffering patiently ai* 
berstttes, troubles, an& sicknesses* 

MONDAY BEFORE EASTER. 
(part. ) 

% Keble. 

THERE are who sigh that no fond heart is theirs, 
None loves them best — O vain and selfish 
sigh ! 
Out of the bosom of His love He spares — 

The Father spares the Son, for thee to die. 
For thee He died — for thee He lives again : 
O'er thee He watches in His boundless reign. 

Thou art as much His care, as if beside 

Nor man nor angel lived in Heaven or earth : 

Thus sunbeams pour alike their glorious tide 
To light up worlds, or wake an insect's mirth : 

They shine and shine with unexhausted store — 

Thou art thy Saviour's darling — seek no more. 

On thee and thine, thy warfare and thine end, 
Even in His hour of agony He thought, 

When, ere the final pang His soul should rend, 
The ransom'd spirits one by one were brought 

To his mind's eye — two silent nights and days, 

In calmness for His far-seen hour He stays. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 1 9 

Ye vaulted cells where martyr'd seers of old 
Far in the rocky walls of Sion sleep, 

Green terraces and arched fountains cold, 

Where lies the cypress shade so still and deep, 

Dear sacred haunts of glory and of woe, 

Help us, one hour, to trace His musings high and 
low : 

One heart-ennobling hour ! It may not be : 

Th' unearthly thoughts have pass'd from earth 
away, 

And fast as evening sunbeams from the sea 
Thy footsteps all in Sion's deep decay 

Were blotted from the holy ground : yet dear 

Is every stone of hers ; for Thou wast surely here. 

There is a spot within this sacred dale 

That felt Thee kneeling — touch'd Thy prostrate 
brow : 

One angel knows it. O might prayer avail 
To win that knowledge ! sure each holy vow 

Less quickly from th' unstable soul would fade, 

Offer'd where Christ in agony was laid. 

Might tears of ours once mingle with the blood 
That from His aching brow by moonlight fell, 

Over the mournful joy our thoughts would brood, 
Till they had framed within a guardian spell 

To chase repining fancies, as they rise, 

Like birds of evil wing, to mar our sacrifice. 

L 



1 2 O HYMNS A ND POEMS 

So dreams the heart self-flattering, fondly dreams ; — 
Else wherefore, when the bitter waves o'erflow, 

Miss we the light, Gethsemane, that streams 
From thy dear name, where in His page of woe 

It shines, a pale kind star in winter's sky ? 

Who vainly reads it there, in vain had seen Him 
die. 



{Etyere sfjoultr be no greater comfort to (Efjrtsttan persons, 
tfyan to bt mate lifte tmto (Jurist, ftg suffering patiently ati* 
bersities, troubles, anti sicknesses* 

E. L. M. 

COME, Tribulation, come ! let not this heart, 
Enlightened from above, 
Feel at thy near approach one painful smart, 
Thou gift of dying love ! 
In sable garments drest, 
I own thee, dear bequest 1 
Of Him who sojourned here, as sorrow's constant 
guest. 

Come, Tribulation, come ! thou plaintive Dove, 

Whose sweet unearthly note 
First warbled on my ear 

The heavenly message dear ! 
And thou didst bear me down 
That plant of great renown, 2 
Which shall my title prove to my celestial crown. 

1 John xvi. 33. 2 Ezek. xxxiv. 29. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 121 

Come, Tribulation, come ! 'tis not in light 

A Saviour's face I see ; 
Cherubic hosts alone can dare that sight, 
Or the Beloved Three. 1 

'Tis when Thy shadowy form 
Broods in the o'erhanging storm, 
That tints of heavenly hue 
Amidst the landscape dark, I joy to view. 

Come, Tribulation, come ! still on my way 

Attendant thou shalt be ; 
Till in the bright ethereal ray 
I feel no need of thee ; 
Then on a Saviour's breast 
For ever shall I rest, 
In His own image found, and with His glory blest ! 



%z gtmsetf foent not tin to jog, but first f§e sttfcreti pain : 
S?e entcretJ not into j§i% glorg before ?§e ftras crurifotu 

ST. LUKE XXII. 42. 

" Child's Christian Year." 

NOT in Thine hours of conflict, Lord ; 
Not when the tempting fiend was nigh ; 
Nor when that bitter cup was poured, 
Thy garden agony ; — 

1 Matt. xvii. 12. 



122 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Not then, when uttermost Thy need 

Seemed light across Thy soul to break, 
No seraph form was seen to speed, 

No voice of comfort spake : 
Till by Thine own revealed word, 1 

The victory o'er the fiend was won ; — 
Till the sweet mournful cry was heard, 2 
" Thy will, not mine, be done !" 

Then to the desert sped the blest, 3 

And food, and peace, and joy conveyed ;- 
Then one, more favoured than the rest, 4 

Glanced to the olive shade. 
Lord ! bring those precious moments back, 

When fainting, against sin we strain ; 
Or in Thy counsels fail to track 
Aught but the present pain. 
In darkness help us to contend ; 

In darkness yield to Thee our will ; 
And true hearts, faithful to the end, 
Cheer by Thine angels still ! 

1 Matt. iv. 10. 2 Luke xxii. 42. 

3 Matt. iv. 11. 4 Luke xxii. 43. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 23 



5§e entered not into f^is glorg before W foas crtmffriu 
EASTER DAY. 



THE Son of David bowed to die, 
For man's transgression stricken ; 
The Father's arm of power was nigh 

The Son of God to quicken : 
Praise Him that He died for men ! 
Praise Him that He rose again ! 

11. 
Death seemed all conquering when he bound 

The Lord of life in prison ; 
The might of death was no where found 

When Christ again was risen ; 
Wherefore praise Him night and day, 
Him who took death's sting away ! 

in. 
His saints with Him must bow to death, 

With Him are raised in spirit ; 
With Him they dwell above by faith, 

Accepted through His merit : 
Who o'er death would victory win, 
Live to Christ and die to sin. 



124 HYMNS AND POEMS 



IV. 

Death may awhile his victims slay, 
Though of his terrors minished ; 

But he shall perish in the day 1 
When God His wars has finished : 

Heaven and earth resound the strain, 

Death by Jesus Christ is slain ! 



0ur frag to eternal jog is to guff er Jjete foitf; Cfjrfet ; 
PATIENCE IN AFFLICTION. 

Emily Taylor. 

MOURNER in Zion ! do not weep : 
"The Lord thou lov'st may long delay; 
Yet still thy patient vigils keep ; 
That soothing voice shall all repay. 

O weep no more ! thy God shall hear : 

From dwellings of adversity 
Thine humble cry shall reach His ear, 

And soon His voice shall answer thee. 

1 1 Cor. xv. 26. Rev. xx. 14. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING I 25 

And though His hand to thee may deal 

The bitter bread of earthly woe, 
And though across thy path may steal 

The waves of sorrow, sad and slow, 

A time shall come, when, O how sweet— 
A voice, a heavenly voice, shall say ; 

" This is the pathway for thy feet ; 
Turn hither, turn, no more to stray." 

And He shall give thee songs of cheer, 
And O how blest thy heart shall be ! 

Mourner in Zion, dry the tear, 

The Lord thy God shall comfort thee. 



■Our frag to eternal jog is to suffer fjere fcritfj (Efjrist ; 
WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 

St. Luke. xxii. 42. 

J. Keble. 

OLORD my God, do Thou Thy holy will— 
I will lie still— 
I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm, 

And break the charm 
Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast, 
In perfect rest. 



126 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Wild Fancy, peace ! thou must not me beguile 

With thy false smile ; 
I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways ; 

Be silent, Praise, 
Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all 

That hear thy call. 

Come, Self-devotion, high and pure, 
Thoughts that in thankfulness endure, 
Though dearest hopes are faithless found, 
And dearest hearts are bursting round. 
Come, Resignation, spirit meek, 
And let me kiss thy placid cheek, 
And read in thy pale eye serene 
Their blessing, who by faith can wean 
Their hearts from sense, and learn to love 
God only, and the joys above. 

They say, who know the life divine, 

And upward gaze with eagle eyne, 

That by each golden crown on high, 

Rich with celestial jewelry, 

Which for our Lord's redeem'd is set, 

There hangs a radiant coronet, 

All gemm'd with pure and living light, 

Too dazzling for a sinner's sight, 

Prepar'd for virgin souls, and them 

Who seek the martyr's diadem. 

Nor deem, who to that bliss aspire, 
Must win their way through blood and fir • 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING I 27 

The writhings of a wounded heart 
Are fiercer than a foeman's dart. 
Oft in Life's stillest shade reclining, 
In Desolation unrepining, 
Without a hope on earth to find 
A mirror in an answering mind, 
Meek souls there are, who little dream 
Their daily strife an Angel's theme, 
Or that the rod they take so calm, 
Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm. 

And there are souls that seem to dwell 

Above this earth — so rich a spell 

Floats round their steps, where'er they move, 

From hopes fulfilled, and mutual love. 

Such, if on high their thoughts are set, 

Nor in the stream the source forget, 

If prompt to quit the bliss they know, 

Following the Lamb where'er He go, 

By purest pleasures unbeguiled 

To idolize or wife or child ; 

Such wedded souls our God shall own 

For faultless virgins round His throne. 

Thus every where we find our suffering God, 

And where He trod 
May set our steps : the Cross on Calvary 

Uplifted high 
Beams on the martyr host, a beacon light 

In open fight. 



128 HYMNS AND POEMS 

To the still wrestlings of the lonely heart 

He doth impart 
The virtue of His midnight agony, 

When none was nigh, 
Save God and one good angel, to assuage 

The tempest's rage. 

Mortal ! if life smile on thee, and thou find 

All to thy mind, 
Think, who did once from Heaven to Hell descend 

Thee to befriend : 
So shalt thou dare forego, at His dear call, 

Thy best, thine all. 

" O Father ! not my will, but Thine be done" — 

So spake the Son. 
Be this our charm, mellowing Earth's ruder noise 

Of griefs and joys ; 
That we may cling for ever to Thy breast 

In perfect rest ! 



®ur frag to eternal jog is to suffer fjere foitfj Cfjrtst ; 
WHO IS ALONE? 

" Gems of Sacred Poetry. y 

HOW heavily «the path of life 
Is trod by him who walks alone ; 
Who hears not, on his dreary way, 
Affection's sweet and cheering tone ; 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING I 29 

Alone, although his heart should bound 
With love to all things great and fair, 

They love not him, — there is not one 
His sorrow or his joy to share. 

The ancient stars look coldly down 

On man, the creature of a day ■ 
They lived before him, and live on 

Till his remembrance pass away. 
The mountain lifts its hoary head, 

Nor to his homage deigns reply ; 
The stormy billows bear him forth, 

Regardless which — to live or die. 

The floweret blooms unseen by him, 

Unmindful of his warmest praise ; 
And if it fades, seeks not his hand 

Its drooping loveliness to raise. 
The brute creation own his power, 

And grateful serve him, tho' in fear ; 
Yet cannot sympathize with man, 

For if he weeps, they shed no tear. 

Alone, — though in the busy town, 

Where hundreds hurry to and fro — 
If there is none who for his sake 

A selfish pleasure would forego ; 
And O how lonely among those 

Who have not skill to read his heart, 
When first he learns how summer friends 

At sight of wintry storms depart. 



130 HYMNS AND POEMS 

My Saviour ! and didst Thou too feel 

How sad it is to be alone, 
Deserted in the adverse hour 

By those who most Thy love had known ? 
The gloomy path, though distant, still 

Was ever present to Thy view ; 
O how couldst Thou, foreseeing it, 

For us that painful course pursue ? 

Forsaken by Thy nearest friends, 

Surrounded by malicious foes, — 
No kindly voice encouraged Thee, 

When the loud shout of scorn uprose. 
Yet there was calm within Thy soul, 

Nor stoic pride that calmness kept, 
Nor godhead unapproached by woe — 

Like man Thou hadst both loved and wept. 

Thou wert not then alone, for God 

Sustained Thee by His mighty power ; 
His arm most felt, His care most seen, 

When needed most in saddest hour ; 
None else could comfort, none else knew, 

How dreadful was the curse of sin ; 
He who controlled the storm without, 

Could gently whisper peace within. 

Who is alone, if God be nigh ? 

Who shall repine at loss of friends, 
While he has One of boundless power, 

Whose constant kindness never ends ? 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING' 131 

Whose presence felt, enhances joy, 

Whose love can stop each flowing tear, 

And cause upon the darkest cloud 
The pledge of mercy to appear. 



®ur troor to enter into eternal life is glafolg to trie toify 
(Efjrist; 

LIFE THROUGH DEATH. 

R. C. Trench. 

ADEWDROP falling on the wild sea wave, 
Exclaimed in fear — " I perish in this grave;' 
But in a shell received, that drop of dew 
Unto a pearl of marvellous beauty grew ; 
And, happy now, the grace did magnify 
Which thrust it forth — as it had feared, to die ; — 
Until again, " I perish quite," it said, 
Torn by rude diver from its ocean bed : 
O unbelieving ! — so it came to gleam 
Chief jewel in a monarch's diadem. 



132 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Efjat foe mag rise again from treaty, anfc fcfoell foitfj %ittt 
in etaiastittg life. 

DEATH. 

Henry Vaughan. 

THOUGH since thy first sad entrance by 
Just Abel's blood, 
Tis now six thousand years well-nigh, 
And still thy sov'rainty holds good ; 
Yet by none art thou understood. 

We talk and name thee with much ease 

As a tryed thing, 
And every one can slight his lease. 

As if it ended in a Spring, 

Which shades and bowers doth rent-free bring. 

To thy dark land these heedless go : 

But there was one, 
Who searched it quite through, to and fro, 

And then, returning like the Sun, 

Discovered all that there is done. 

And since His death we throughly see 
All thy dark way ; 

Thy shades but thin and narrow be, 
Which His first looks will quickly fray : 
Mists make but triumphs for the day. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 33 

As harmless violets, which give 
Their virtues here 
For salves and syrups, while they live, 

Do after calmly disappear, 

And neither grieve, repine, nor fear, — 

So die His servants ; and as sure 
Shall they revive. 

Then let not dust your eyes obscure, 
But lift them up, where still alive, 
Though fled from you, their spirits hive. 



0ofo, therefore, taking pur sickness, fofjirfjr is tfjtts 
profitable for gou, patiottlg* 

Wilberforce. 

WITHIN this leaf, to every eye 
So little worth, doth hidden lie 
Most rare and subtle fragrancy. 



Wouldst thou its secret strength unbind ? 
Crush it, and thou shalt perfume find 
Sweet as Arabia's spicy wind. 

In this dull stone, so poor, and bare 
Of shape or lustre, patient care 
Will find for thee a jewel rare : 



134 HYMNS AND POEMS 

But first must skilful hands essay 

With file and flint to clear away 

The film which hides its fire from day. 

This leaf? this stone ? It is thy heart : 
It must be crushed by pain and smart, 
It must be cleansed by sorrow's art — 

Ere it will yield a fragrance sweet, 
Ere it will shine, a jewel meet 
To lay before thy dear Lord's feet. 



E require gou to examine gottrsetf anti goxir estate, frotJj 
tofcmrti Goto auto man ; 

THE METHOD. 

George Herbert. 

POOR heart, lament ! 
For since thy God refuseth still, 
There is some rub, some discontent, 
Which cools his will. 

Thy Father could 
Quickly effect what thou dost move, 
For He is Power : and sure He would, 

For He is Love. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 35 

Go, search this thing : 
Tumble thy breast, and turn thy book. 
If thou hadst lost a glove, or ring, 

Wouldst thou not look ? 

What do I see 
Written above there ? — " Yesterday 
I did behave me carelessly, 

When I did pray." 

And should God's ear 
To such indifferents chained be, 
Who do not their own motions hear ? 

Is God less free ? 

But stay, what's there ? — 
" Late when I would have something done, 
I had a motion to forbear; 

Yet I went on." 

And should God's ear, 
Which needs not man, be tied to those 
Who hear not Him, but quickly hear 

His utter foes ? 

Then once more pray : 
Down with thy knees, up with thy voice ; 
Seek pardon first \ and God will say — 

" Glad heart, rejoice !" 



M 



I36 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Kememfar tfje yxalmitm fcrtjtcfjr gnu matte tmt0 (Grfto in 
gour Baptism* 

MY BAPTISMAL BIRTH-DAY. 

S. T. Coleridge. 

GOD'S child in Christ adopted,— Christ my 
all, — 
What that earth boasts were not lost cheaply, rather 
Than forfeit that blest name, by which I call 
The Holy One, the Almighty God, my Father? 
Father ! in Christ we live, and Christ in Thee ; 
Eternal Thou, and everlasting we. 
The heir of heaven, henceforth I fear not death ; 
In Christ I live, in Christ I draw the breath 
Of the true life ; let then earth, sea, and sky 
Make war against me ! on my front I show 
Their mighty Master's seal. In vain they try 
To end my life, that can but end its woe. 
Is that a death-bed where a Christian lies ? 
Yes; but not his — 'tis Death itself there dies. 



FOR , THE SICK AND S UFFERING 1 3 7 



Eemetn&et tfje profession fofjtcfj gou mate unto (Srofc in 
gout baptism. 

RULES AND LESSONS. 

(part. ) 

Henry Vaughan. 

WHEN first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul 
leave 
To do the like ; our bodies but forerun 
The spirit's duty. True hearts spread and heave 

Unto their God, as flowers do to the sun. 
Give Him thy first thoughts then; so shalt thou 

keep 
Him company all day, and in Him sleep. 

Yet never sleep the sun up ; prayer should 
Dawn with the day ; there are set, awful hours 

'Twixt heaven and us ; the manna was not good 
After sun-rising ; far-day sullies flowers. 

Rise to prevent the sun ; sleep doth sins glut, 

And heaven's gate opens when the world's is shut. 

Walk with thy fellow-creatures : note the hush 
And whispers amongst them. There's not a spring 

Or leaf but hath his morning hymn ; each bush 
And oak doth know I am. — Canst thou not sing? 



T38 HYMNS AND POEMS 

O leave thy cares and follies ! go this way, 
And thou art sure to prosper all the day. 

Serve God before the world ; let Him not go, 
Until thou hast a blessing ; then resign 

The whole unto Him ; and remember who 
Prevail'd by wrestling ere the sun did shine. 

Pour oil upon the stones f weep for thy sin ; 

Then journey on, and have an eye to heav'n. 

Mornings are mysteries : the first world's youth, 
Man's resurrection, and the future's bud, 

Shroud in their births : the crown of life, light, 
truth, 
Is styl'd their star, 2 the stone, and hidden food. 

Three blessings wait upon them, two of which 

Should move ; they make us holy, happy, rich. 

When the world's up, and every swarm abroad, 
Keep thou thy temper ; mix not with each clay ; 

Despatch necessities ; life hath a load 

Which must be carried on, and safely may. 

Yet keep those cares without thee ; let the heart 

Be God's alone, and choose the better part. 

1 Gen. xxviii. 18. 2 Rev. ii. 28. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 39 



EJjm is an account to ut gtben unto tfje righteous Stttige, 
fcjj foljom all must nt jutyzti. 

DIES ir^:. 

R. C. Trench. 

OTHAT day, that day of ire, 
Told of Prophet, when in fire 
Shall a world dissolved expire ! 

O what terror shall be then, 
When the Judge shall come again, 
Strictly searching deeds of men : 

When a trump of awful tone, 
Thro' the caves sepulchral blown, 
Summons all before the throne. 

What amazement shall o'ertake 
Nature, when the dead shall wake, 
Answer to the Judge to make. 

Open then the book shall lie, 
All o'erwrit for every eye 
With a world's iniquity. 

When the Judge His place has ta'en, 
All things hid shall be made plain, 
Nothing unavenged remain. 

What then, wretched ! shall I speak ? 

Or what intercessor seek, 

When the just man's cause is weak? 



I40 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Jesus, Lord, remember, pray, 
I the cause was of Thy way ; 
Do not lose me on that day. 

King of awful majesty, 

Who the saved dost freely free, 

Fount of mercy, pity me. 

Tired Thou satest, seeking me — 
Crucified, to set me free ; 
Let such pain not fruitless be. 

Terrible Avenger, make 

Of Thy mercy me partake, 

Ere that day of vengeance wake. 

As a criminal I groan, 
Blushing deep my fault I own : 
Grace be to a suppliant shown. 

Thou who Mary didst forgive, 
And who bad'st the robber live, 
Hope to me dost also give. 

Tho' my prayer unworthy be, 
Yet O set me graciously 
From the fire eternal free. 

'Mid Thy sheep my place command, 
From the goats far off to stand ; 
Set me, Lord, at Thy right hand. 

And when them who scorned Thee here 
Thou hast judged to doom severe, 
Bid me with Thy saved draw near. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 141 

Lying low before Thy throne, 
Crushed my heart in dust, I groan ; 
Grace be to a suppliant shown. 



$tfter tfjts life tfjete \% an account to bt gtben unto tfje 
righteous 3vtogz, bg fofjom all must tie jufcgetr. 

THE DAWNING. 

Henry Vaughan. 

AH ! what time wilt Thou come ? when shall 
that crie 
" The Bridegroom's coming !" fill the sky ? 
Shall it in the evening run, 
When our words and works are done ? 
Or will Thy all-surprising light 

Break at midnight, 
When either sleep, or some dark pleasure 
Possesseth mad man without measure ? 
Or shall these early fragrant hours 

Unlock Thy bowers ; 
And with their blush of light descry 
Thy locks crown'd with Eternitie ? 
Indeed it is the only time 
That with Thy glory doth best chime ; 
All now are stirring, every field 

Full hymns doth yield ; 
The whole Creation shakes off night, 
And for Thy shadow looks the light : 



142 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Stars now vanish without number, 
Sleepie planets set and slumber, 
The pursie clouds disband and scatter, 
All expect some sudden matter ; 
Not one beam triumphs, but from far 
That Morning Star. 

O, at what time soever Thou, 

Unknown to us, the heavens wilt bow, 

And, with Thy angels in the van, 

Descend to judge poor careless man, 

Grant I may not like puddle lie 

In a corrupt securitie, 

Where, if a traveller water crave, 

He finds it dead, and in a grave ; 

But, as this restless, vocal spring 

All day and night doth run, and sing, 

And though here born, yet is acquainted 

Elsewhere, and flowing keeps untainted ; 

So let me, all my busie age, 

In Thy free services engage ; 

And though (while here) of force I must 

Have commerce sometimes with poor dust, 

And in my flesh, though vile and low, 

As this doth in her channel, flow, 

Yet let my course, my aim, my love, 

And chief acquaintance be above ; 

So when that day and hour shall come, 

In which Thyself wilt be the sun, 

Thou'lt find me dressed and on my way, 

Watching the break of Thy great day. 



THE CREED. 

pogt tljon beliet>e in (gob tlje /atljer <?Umigl)tg, 
JEaker of Ijeamn anb earf!)? 

$tnb in $egn# (Iljrtet Htjsi onlg-begotten $on 
our |Lorb'? $tnb tljat ?§e toa£ conceit) eb bg tlje 
fjolg 6tjo#t, born of tlje Virgin parg ; tljat He 
gnffereb unber Pontine pilate, wag cntrifieb, beab, 
anli burieb ; tljat |§e toent boron into Ijeli, anb 
ateo bib ri#e again tlje tljirb bag ; tljat He ag- 
cenbeb into Ijeaoen, anb gittetlj at tlje rigljt Ijanb 
of Sob tlje Jfatfjer «2tlmigljtg ; anb from tljence 
gljatl tome again at tlje enb of tlje roorlb, to jubge 
tlje qnick anb tl)e beab? 

$tnb bogt tljon belieoe in tlje !§oig Sljogt ; tlje 
Holg (ftatljolick (Jljnrcij ; tlje Glommnnion of 
$aintg ; tlje glemiggion of ging ; tlje gtegnrrec- 
tion of tlje Eeglj ; anb eoerlagting life after beat!) ? 

$tn#toer. $Ui tljij* 3E gtebfagtlg beiiene. 



144 HYMNS AND POEMS 

3l0gt t^rott Mizbt in <&t& tfje JFat Jjer ^Itnigfjtg ? 
THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 

R. C. Trench. 

I SAY to thee — do thou repeat 
To the first man thou mayest meet 
In lane, highway, or open street, — 

That he and we and all men move 

Under a canopy of love, 

As broad as the blue sky above ; 

That doubt and trouble, fear and pain 
And anguish, all are shadows vain, 
That death itself shall not remain ; 

That weary deserts we may tread, 
A dreary labyrinth may thread, 
Through dark ways underground be led ; 

Yet, if we will one Guide obey, 
The dreariest path, the darkest way 
Shall issue out in heavenly day ; 

And we, on divers shores now cast, 
Shall meet, our perilous voyage past, 
All in our Father's house at last. 

And ere thou leave him, say thou this, 
Yet one word more, — They only miss 
The winning of that final bliss, 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 45 

Who will not count it true, that Love, 
Blessing, not cursing, rules above, 
And that in it we live and move. 

And one thing further make him know, — 
That to believe these things are so, 
This firm faith never to forego, 

Despite of all that seems at strife 
With blessing, all with curses rife, 
That this is blessing, this is life. 



$3ost tfjott fcdtoe in <&c& tfje jFatfjer aimtflfjtg, iffitate ci 
Jjeabm anfc eartfj ? 

THE VOYAGE OF EARTH. 

HIS grey round world, so full of life, 
Of hate and love, and calm and strife, 
Still ship-like on for ages fares, 
And holds its course so smooth and true, 
For all the madness of the crew, — 
It must have better rule than theirs. 

%s. 

IS life a sea ? O, no, 'tis steadier far. 
Is life a land ? O, no, too fast 'tis driven. 
It is, beneath its guiding heavenly Star, 
An island floating towards the coast of Heaven. 



T 



146 HYMNS AND POEMS 

&tttr in 3Jesus Cfjrtst fjfe onl&bt$attm &on trnx 3LortJ? 
JESUS MY ALL. 

J. Newton. 

WHY should I fear the darkest hour, 
Or tremble at the tempest's power ? 
Jesus vouchsafes to be my tower. 

Though hot the fight, why quit the field, 
Why must I either flee or yield, 
Since Jesus is my mighty shield ? 

When creature comforts fade and die, 
Worldlings may weep, but why should I ? 
Jesus still lives, and still is nigh. 

Though all the flocks and herds were dead, 
My soul a famine need not dread, 
For Jesus is my living bread. 

I know not what may soon betide, 
Nor how my wants may be supplied ; 
But Jesus knows, and will provide. 

Though sin would fill me with distress, 
The throne of grace I dare address, 
For Jesus is my righteousness. 

Though faint my prayers and cold my love, 
My stedfast hope shall not remove 
While Jesus intercedes above. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 47 

Against me earth and hell combine, 
But on my side is power divine ; 
Jesus is all, and He is mine. 



&n& tfjat p?e &ras tonceto fog tfjre grig &?}0st, born of 
% Uirgin ilHars ; tfjat fge sufcett tmticr Pontius -pilate, 
&ras mtcifotj, fceati, anti fttmeU : tfjat %z font tufixm into fjell, 
anto also fcfa rise again tfje tfjtrti trag : tfrat p£e ascm&etf into 
fjeabm, an& sittetfj at tfje rigfjt Ijantr of (Siotf tlje JFatfjer 
^Imigijtg ; 

LITANY. 

SirR. Grant. 
I. 

v AVIOUR, when in dust to Thee 
Low we bow the adoring knee ; 
When, repentant, to the skies 
Scarce we lift our weeping eyes : 
O by all Thy pains and woe 
Suffered once for man below, 
Bending from Thy throne on high, 
Hear our solemn Litany ! 



S' 



ii. 
By Thy helpless infant years, 
By Thy life of want and tears, 
By Thy days of sore distress 
In the savage wilderness, 
By the dread mysterious hour 
Of th' insulting tempter's power ; 
Turn, O turn a favouring eye, 
Hear our solemn Litany ! 



T4& HYMNS AND POEMS 



III. 

By the sacred griefs that wept 
O'er the grave where Lazarus slept ; 
By the boding tears that flowed 
Over Salem's loved abode ; 
By the anguished sigh that told 
Treachery lurked within Thy fold ; 
From Thy seat above the sky, 
Hear our solemn Litany 

IV. 

By Thine hour of dire despair, 
By Thine agony of prayer, 
By the cross, the nail, the thorn, 
Piercing spear, and torturing scorn, 
By the gloom that veiled the skies 
O'er the dreadful sacrifice ; 
Listen to our humble cry, 
Hear our solemn Litany ! 

v. 
By Thy deep expiring groan, 
By the sad sepulchral stone, 
By the vault whose dark abode 
Held in vain the rising God : 
O from Earth to Heaven restored, 
Mighty, reascended Lord, 
Listen, listen to the cry 
Of our solemn Litany ! 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 49 



Sfafo also tJttr rise again tfje tfjirfc tragf ; tfjat $?e ascentieti 
into Jjea&en, and sittctfj at tfje rigfjt fjanfc of (Koi tfje JFatfjer 
( Eimigfjt|j ; 

THE DAWNING. 

(PART.) 

George Herbert. 

AWAKE, sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns ; 
Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth ; 
Unfold thy forehead, gather'd into frowns : 
Thy Saviour comes, and with Him mirth : 

Awake, awake ! 
And with a thankful heart His comforts take. 
But thou dost still lament, and pine, and cry \ 
And feel His death, but not His victory. 

Arise, sad heart ; if thou dost not withstand, 

Christ's resurrection thine may be. 
Do not by hanging down, break from the hand, 

Which, as it riseth, raiseth thee. 
Arise, arise ! 



&n& from tfjence sfjall rome again at tfje enU of tfje frorltr, 
to jutige tfje quick axiQ tfje treatr ? 

THE THRONE. 

Henry Vaughan. 

WHEN with these eyes, clos'd now by Thee, 
But then restored, 
The great and white Throne I shall see 
Of my dread Lord : 



150 HYMNS AND POEMS 

And lowly kneeling, (for the most 

Stiff then must kneel,) 
Shall look on Him, at whose high cost 

(Unseen) such joys I feel, — 
Whatever arguments or skill 

Wise heads shall use, 
Tears only and my blushes still 

I will produce. 
And should those speechless beggars fail, 

Which oft have won ; 
Then, taught by Thee, I will prevail, 

And say ; " Thy will be done !" 



from tymie sfjafl come again at tfye zvti of tfje toorto, 
to jtitige tfje quick atttf tfye treaty ? 

"IT IS I: BE NOT AFRAID." 

H. F. Lyte. 

LOUD was the wind, and wild the tide ; 
The ship her course delayed : 
The Lord came to their help, and cried, 
" 'Tis I : be not afraid." 

Who walks the waves in wondrous guise, 

By Nature's laws unstaid ? 
" 'Tis I," a well-known voice replies ; 

"'Tis I: be not afraid." 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 151 

He mounts the deck : down lulls the sea ; 

The tempest is allayed ; 
The prostrate crew adore ; and He 

Exclaims, "Be not afraid." 

Thus, when the storm of life is high, 

Come, Saviour, to my aid ! 
Come, when no other help is nigh, 

And say, "Be not afraid." 

Speak, and my griefs no more are heard \ 

Speak, and my fears are laid ; 
Speak, and my soul shall bless the word, 

" 'Tis I : be not afraid." 

When on the bed of death I lie, 

And stretch my hands for aid, 
Stand Thou before my glazing eye, 

And say — "Be not afraid." 

Before Thy judgment-seat above 

When nature sinks dismayed, 
O cheer me with a word of love — 

"Tis I: be not afraid." 

Worlds may around to wreck be driven, 

If then I hear it said, 
By Him who rules through earth and Heaven, 

"'Tis I: be not afraid." 



152 HYMNS AND POEMS 



&it& tost tfjou freUefoe tit tfje %oIs dSfjost ; 

T^* Liturgy. 

COME, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire, 
And lighten with celestial fire. 
Thou the anointing Spirit art, 
Who dost Thy seven-fold gifts impart. 
Thy blessed unction from above, 
Is comfort, life, and fire of love. 

Enable with perpetual light 
The dulness of our blinded sight. 
Anoint, and cheer our soiled face 
With the abundance of Thy grace. 
Keep far our foes, give peace at home : 
Where Thou art guide, no ill can come. 

Teach us to know the Father, Son, 
And Thee, of both, to be but One. 
That, through the ages all along, 
This may be our endless song ; 
Praise to Thy eternal merit, 
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 153 

Wqi f^olg &atf}0M Cfjurcfj ; tfje (Kommttmon of faints ; 
ALL SAINTS. 

S. Wilberforte. 

IT was upon the morning of All Saints — 
A glorious autumn morn : — The crimson sun 
With rays aslant lit up a silver mist 
Which had crept on all night — as some great host — 
Through every lowland valley, but was now 
Melting in softest light, like childhood's dream. 
Above me the clear sky showed almost dark, 
So deep its blue beside the gorgeous east. 
No cloud had stained it yet, but here and there 
A snowy vapour, severed from the rest, 
Hung high above, as though the visible breath 
Of passing Angels. — I had sat me down 
Upon a high hill side, to see day break, 
And think upon All Saints. I know not now 
Whether I slept — but so it seemed to me, 
My tranced senses sunk o'erpowered before 
The glorious presence of an Holy One, 
A watcher from on high, who thus to me, 
Reading my thoughts, spake graciously: — "Thou 

wouldst 
Behold this goodly army of All Saints, 
And scan their noble bearing : watch awhile 
With eye intent, and I will pass before thee 
The sight for which thou cravest." 



154 HYMNS A ND POEMS 



Fixed I sat 
With earnest gaze upon the glowing sky 
Where, as I deemed, with all its glory wreathed, 
The pageant I should see of passing hosts 
Bright with celestial radiance. — Nought I saw ; 
Only with tottering steps before mine eyes 
A meek old man moved by, who feebly helped 
The utter weariness of aged feet 
With a poor staff, — and then on that hill side 
A woman passed, belike a new-made widow, 
With her deep weeds — and on her sunken cheek 
Sat the pale hue of nights unrestful, spent 
In heart-sick watching by some bed of pain : — 
Yet on her brow, which the sun's rays now lighted, 
Methought there dwelt a glow, brighter than his, 
Of peace and holy calm. And so she passed. 
Nor saw I more — save that a little child, 
Of brightest childlike gentleness, passed by, 
Lisping his morning song of infant praise 
With a half inward melody ; as though 
He were too happy for this creeping earth. 
— Yet I sat watching : till upon my ear 
Broke that same heavenly voice — " What wouldst 

thou more, 
Or why this empty gaze ? Already thou 
In those that passed thee by hast seen All Saints." 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 55 



Wty (Eommtmfott of Saints ; 

PSALM LXXVIII. 39. 

" FOR HE REMEMBERED THAT THEY WERE BUT FLESH ; 
A WIND THAT PASSETH AWAY, AND COMETH NOT AGAIN." 

T. V. Fosbery. 

SWIFT o'er the desert plains the wild wind 
sweeps, 
Swift o'er the sea, that heaves beneath its power ; 
And steady flight o'er fairest scenes it keeps, 

Tho' perfume breathes from every sunlit bower : 
Earth knows no charm its onward course to stay ; 
It takes no rest, it passeth on, alway. 

Lord, are we likened to this fleeting wind? — 
To quit this earthly life we do not grieve, 

But must the yearning spirit leave behind 

The dear and true whom it is death to leave ? 

Sure our strong hearts' deep love can never fail 

As part and break the clouds before the gale. 

Only the mortal frame can fade and die ; 

All that is worthy of a spirit's love 
Shall cleave to us throughout eternity, 

Shall dwell with us in far bright worlds above : 
Here if pains, partings, sorrows, cares molest — 
Swift flight is ours, — before us lies our rest. 



156 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Here we are severed far ; Thou seest, Lord, 
How each in lonely course is onward driven ; — 

Thy righteousness, Thy love, Thy strength afford, 
So shalt Thou gather us to meet in Heaven \ 

And us, Thy wandering winds, Thou then shalt own, 

Hush'd into still pure air, around Thy throne. 



J 



Wfyt Communion trf faints ; 

Henry Vaughan. 

OY of my Life while left me here, 

And still my Love ! 
How in thine absence thou dost steere 
Me from above ! 
A life well led 
This truth commends — 

With quick or dead 
It never ends. 



Stars are of mighty use : the night 

Is dark, and long ; 
The road foul, and where one goes right 
Six may go wrong. 

One twinkling ray 
Shot o'er some cloud, 

May cleare much way 
And guide a crowd. 



. r _\ r 



_r: : 



Us 



:-:, 
""". 



e~: 



: : ::;:;:: : : :: ~ 



o 



:: 



158 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Replete with wild decay, forbids again 

Rest in vicissitude, — the sacred power 

Of friendship, is spell-bound, and the fair hopes 

That lived upon her smile, are vanished all. 

Enwrapt in woe, my solitary soul 

O'er the sad records of departed joy 

Sits brooding • and " the song of other days" 

Seems but the echo of a distant knell. 

Say then, whence flows this gentle sympathy, 

Which, 'mid the burden of desponding thought, 

Makes known its influence ? O not of earth, 

Sweet solace, art thou born ! nor dost thou speak 

In tones of human tenderness : no word 

Finds utterance from thee, yet the rapt soul 

Listens, as if celestial harmony 

Her powers enchained, — as if the paradise 

Of blessed ones unfolded to her view, 

Inviting entrance. Thou comest to reveal 

That we are not alone, that those we lost 

Erewhile from earth's communion, watch us still 

With tender assiduity, and soothe 

The grief that spirits freed no longer share. 

Ah, why then veiled the forms so dearly loved 

In clouds impassable ? Why mark we not 

With every welcome proof of tenderness 

The hand bestowing, and the gentle voice 

Which brings unknown the message of relief? 

May we not recognise and joy to claim 

Kindred with spirits who delight to share 

Our guardianship with angel ministers ? — 

O rarely in this weary pilgrimage 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 59 

Is such a grant bestowed 1 They still are ours, 

The brethren, sisters, friends ; and in the day 

Of overwhelming woe, or dire assault, 

Some gentle intimation speaks them nigh 

In very presence ; to some favoured few 

Alone, is e'er vouchsafed the vision which 

Has to the anxious heart brought peace and rest. 

Yet ask we not the same, — it may not please 

Him in whose hand our being's welfare is, 

Thus to dispense His mercy ; 'tis enough 

That they are here, though this dim twilight scene 

Forbids us the delight to realise ; 

And they, rejoicing in the perfectness 

Of glad obedience, seek not to reveal 

Their guardian powers, even to the best beloved. 

And yet (O might we ask !) upon the verge 

Of being — when the failing heart and flesh 

Sustain the mortal conflict, that the veil 

Might by some cherished hand be drawn aside, 

While some sweet smile on which we erst had gazed 

Beamed through the darkness — 

Be the hope forgiven ! 
Thou Saviour, Thou the Guide, we will not turn 
To creature help, but in Thy arms upborne, 
Abundant entrance shall be ministered 
Into the land of everlasting light. 



l6o HYMNS AND POEMS 

Gffje Ctenmimum of faints ; 
FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS. 

H. IV. Longfellow. 

WHEN the hours of day are numbered, 
And the voices of the night 
Wake the better soul, that slumbered, 
To a holy, calm delight ; 

Ere the evening lamps are lighted, 
And, like phantoms grim and tali, 

Shadows from the fitful firelight 
Dance upon the parlour wall : 

Then the forms of the departed 

Enter at the open door ; 
The beloved, the true-hearted, 

Come to visit me once more : 

He, the young and strong, who cherished 

Noble longings for the strife, 
By the roadside fell and perished, 

Weary with the march of life ! 

They, the holy ones and weakly, 
Who the cross of suffering bore, 

Folded their pale hands so meekly, 
Spake with us on earth no more ! 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING l6l 

And with them the being beauteous, 
Who unto my youth was given, 

More than all things else to love me, 
And is now a saint in heaven. 

With a slow and noiseless footstep 

Comes that messenger divine, 
Takes the vacant chair beside me, 

Lays her gentle hand in mine. 

And she sits and gazes at me 

With those deep and tender eyes, 

Like the stars, so still and saintlike, 
Looking downward from the skies. 

Uttered not, yet comprehended, 

Is the spirit's voiceless prayer, 
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended, 

Breathing from her lips of air. 

O though oft depressed and lonely, 

All my fears are laid aside, 
If I but remember only 

Such as these have lived and died ! 



1 62 HYMNS AND POEMS 



" Hymns oftlie Primitive Ckttrch.' 

WHILE Thine avenging arrows, Lord, 
Encompass us around, 
What hand but that which caused the smart 
Can cure the deadly wound ? 

Depart, vain world, for how canst thou 

Relieve the festering sore ? 
Thy comfort is but vanity, 

And irritates it more. 

We tremble, Lord, beneath Thy rod, 

But we do not despair ; 
We see the good Physician's hand 

In all He bids us bear. 

But O, so fierce the contest burns, 

Good Lord, no more delay ; 
O yield not to their deadly foes 

Thy people for a prey. 

Our prayer is heard : our foes depart, 
And we once more take breath : 

Thy death, O Christ, relieves the soul 
From all its fears of death. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 63 

All praise and glory be ascribed 

To God, who reigns above ; 
Who scourges those whom He receives, 

And chastens them in love. 



&fje Insurrection of tfje flesfj ; attti everlasting life after 
fceatfj? 

EARTH AND HEAVEN. 

y.s. 

THERE is a world of Death beneath our feet \ 
There is a world of Life above our heads ; 
Here ruins, graves, dry leaves, fallen blossoms meet; 
There God, in light and air, His glory spreads. 



WHERE TO LOOK. 

y.s. 

BEND not thy light-desiring eyes below; 
There thy own shadow waits upon thee ever; 
But raise thy looks to Heaven, and lo ! 

The shadeless sun rewards thy weak endeavour. 
Who sees the dark, is dark ; but turn towards the 

light, 
And thou becom'st like that which fills thy sight. 



E64 hymns and poems 



2fafo etolastmg life after toatfj ? 
ON TIME. 



Milton. 



FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race, 
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, 
Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace ; 
And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, 
Which is no more than what is false and vain, 
And merely mortal dross ; 
So little is our loss, 
So little is thy gain. 

For when as each thing bad thou hast entombed, 
And last of all thy greedy self consumed, 
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss 
With an individual kiss ; 
And joy shall overtake us as a flood, 
When every thing that is sincerely good 
And perfectly divine, 

With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine 
About the supreme throne 
Of Him, to whose happy-making sight alone, 
When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb, 
Then, (all this earthly grossness quit,) 
Attired with stars, we shall for ever sit, 
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, 
O Time. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 65 



©je iftamrmtfon of tfje flesfj ; antr rijerlastmg Kfe after 
totfj? 

GOD'S ACRE. 

i7. W. Longfellow. 

I LIKE that ancient Saxon phrase which calls 
The burial-ground God's Acre ! It is just ; 
It consecrates each grave within its walls, 
And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. 

God's Acre ! Yes, that blessed name imparts 
Comfort to those, who in the grave have sown 

The seed that they have garnered in their hearts, 
Their bread of life, alas ! no more their own. 

Into its furrows shall we all be cast, 

In the sure faith that we shall rise again 

At the great harvest, when the archangel's blast 
Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain. 

Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom, 
In the fair gardens of that second birth ; 

And each bright blossom mingle its perfume 

With that of flowers which never bloomed on earth. 



1 6 6 HYMNS A ND POEMS 

With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod 
And spread the furrow for the seed we sow ; 

This is the field and Acre of our God : 

This is the place where human harvests grow ! 



€fterlasting life after ifeatfj ? 
NOVEMBER. 



H. F. Lyte. 



THE autumn wind is moaning low the requiem 
of the year ; 
The days are growing short again, the fields forlorn 

and sere ; 
The sunny sky is waxing dim, and chill the hazy 

air; 
And tossing trees before the breeze are turning 
brown and bare. 

All nature and her children now prepare for rougher 

days : 
The squirrel makes his winter bed, and hazel hoard 

purveys ; § 

The sunny swallow spreads his wings to seek a 

brighter sky ; 
And boding owl, with nightly howl, says cloud and 

storm are nigh. 



FOR THE SICK AND S UFFER ING 1 6 7 

No more 'tis sweet to walk abroad among the 

evening dews : 
The flowers are fled from every path, with all their 

scents and hues : 
The joyous bird no more is heard, save where his 

slender song 
The robin drops, as meek he hops the withered 

leaves among. 

Those withered leaves, that slender song, a solemn 

truth convey, — 
In wisdom's ear they speak aloud of frailty and 

decay : 
They say, that man's appointed year shall have its 

winter too ; 
Shall rise and shine, and then decline, as all around 

him do. 

They tell him, all he has on earth, his brightest 

dearest things, 
His loves and friendships, joys and hopes, have all 

their falls and springs : 
A wave upon a moon-lit sea, a leaf before the blast, 
A summer flower, an April hour, that gleams and 

hurries past. 

And be it so : I know it well : myself, and all that's 

mine, 
Must roll on with the rolling year, and ripen to 

decline. 

o 



1 6 8 HYMNS A ND POEMS 

I do not shun the solemn truth : to him it is not 

drear 
Whose hopes can rise above the skies, and see a 

Saviour near. 
It only makes him feel with joy, this earth is not 

his home ; 
It sends him on from present ills to brighter hours 

to come : 
It bids him take with thankful heart whate'er his 

God may send, 
Content to go through weal or woe to glory in the 

end. 

Then murmur on, ye wintry winds ; remind me of 

my doom : 
Ye lengthened nights, still image forth the darkness 

of the tomb. 
Eternal summer lights the heart where Jesus deigns 

to shine. 
I mourn no loss, I shun no cross, so Thou, O Lord, 

art mine ! 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 69 



Cfjc &esutrectum d tfje fefj ; atttf eberlastmg life after 
teatfj ? 

RESURRECTION AND IMMORTALITY. 

Hebrews x. 20. 

Henry VaugJian. 
BODY. 

I. 

OFT have I seen — when that renewing breath 
That binds and loosens death, 
inspired a quick'ning power through the dead 
Creatures a-bed — 
Some drowsie silk-worm creep 
From that long sleepe, 
^nd, in weak infant humming s, chime and knell 

About her silent cell ; 
Jntil at last, full with the vital ray, 
She winged away ; 
And proud with life and sense 
Heaven's rich expense, 
Esteemed (vain thing) of two whole elements 

As mean, and span-extents. 
>hall I then think such Providence will be 
Lesse friend to me ? 
Or that He can endure to be unjust 
Who keeps His covenant even with our dust ? 



170 HYMNS AND POEMS 



SOULE. 
II. 

Poore querulous handful, was't for this 

I taught thee all that is ? 
Unbowel'd Nature, showed thee her recruits, 
And change of suits ; 
And how of death we make 
A mere mistake ? 
For no thing can to nothing fall, but still 

Incorporates by skill, 
And then returns, and from the wombe of things 
Such treasure brings 
As phoenix-like renew' th 
Both life and youth. 
For a persevering Spirit doth still passe 
Untainted through this masse 
Which doth resolve, produce, and ripen all 
That to it fall ; 
Nor are those births, which we 
Thus suffering see, 
Destroyed at all ; but when time's restless wave 

Their substance doth deprave, 
And the more noble Essence finds his house 
Sickly and loose, 
He, ever young, doth wing 
Unto that spring 
And source of spirits, where he takes his lot 

Till time no more shall rot 
His passive cottage ; which, (though laid aside,) 
Like some spruce bride 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 171 

Shall one day rise, and, clothed with shining light 
All pure and bright, 
Re-marry to the soule ; for 'tis most plain 
Thou only fall'st to be refined again e. 

in. 
Then I that here saw darkly in a glasse 

But mists and shadows pass, 
And by their own weake shine did search the springs 
And course of things, 
Shall with enlightened rayes 
Pierce all their wayes. 
And, as thou saw'st I in a thought could go 

To Heaven, or Earth below, 

To read some starre, or mineral, — and in state 

There often sate — 

So shalt thou then with me 

(Both winged, and free,) 

Rove in that mighty and eternal light 

Where no rude shade or night 
Shall dare approach us ; we shall no more 
Watch stars, or pore 
Through melancholy clouds, and say — 
" Would it were day : " 
One everlasting Sabbath there shall run, 
Without succession, and without a Sun ! 



172 HYMNS A ND POEMS 



Wtjt foeguroctton of tfje flesfj ; anti eberlastmg life after 
treat]} ? 

DEATH. 

George Herbert. 

DEATH, thou wast once an uncouth hideous 
thing, 
Nothing but bones, 
The sad effect of sadder groans \ 
Thy mouth was open, but thou could'st not sing. 

For we considered thee as at some six 
Or ten years hence, 
After the loss of life and sense, 
Flesh being turn'd to dust, and bones to sticks. 

We look'd on this side of thee, shooting short ; 
Where we did find 
The shells of fledg'd souls left behind ; 
Dry dust, which sheds no tears — but may extort. 

But since our Saviour's death did put some blood 
Into thy face, 
Thou art grown fair and full of grace, 
Much in request, much sought for as a good. 

For we do now behold thee gay and glad 
As at doomsday; 
When souls shall wear their new array, 
And all thy bones with beauty shall be clad. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING I 73 

Therefore we can go die, as sleep ; and trust 
Half that we have 
Unto an honest faithful grave : 
Making our pillows either down or dust. 



Wqz iftesttrrertuin of tfjre flesfj ; atttr everlasting life after 
tfeatfj ? 

Henry Vaughan. 



I WALKED the other day (to spend my hour) 
Into a field, 
Where I sometimes had seen the soil to yield 

A gallant flowre ; 
But winter now had ruffled all the bowre 
And curious store, 
I knew there heretofore. 



Yet I, whose search loved not to peep and peer 

In th' face of things, 
Thought with myself, there might be other Springs 

Besides this here 
Which, like cold friends, sees us but once a year; 

And so the flowre 
Might have some other bowre. 



174 HYMNS AND POEMS 



III. 

Then taking up what I could nearest spie, 

I digged about 
That place where I had seen him to grow out ; 

And by and bye 
I saw the warm recluse alone to lie 

Where, fresh and green, 
He lived, of us unseen. 



IV. 

Many a question intricate and rare 
Did I there strow ; 

But all I could extort was, that he now 
Did there repair 

Such losses as befel him in this air ; 
And would, ere long, 
Come forth most fair and young. 



v. 

This past, I threw the clothes quite o'er his head, 

And stung with fear 
Of my own frailty, dropt down many a tear 

Upon his bed : 
Then sighing whispered, — "Happy are the dead! 
What peace doth now 
Rock him asleep Mow/" 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING I 75 



VI. 

And yet how few believe such doctrine springs 

From a poor root, 
Which all the winter sleeps here under foot, 

And hath no wings 
To raise it to the truth and light of things, 

But is still trod 
By every wandering clod. 



VII. 

O Thou whose Spirit did at first inflame 

And warm the dead, 
And by a sacred incubation fed 

With life this frame, 
Which once had neither being, forme, nor name ; 

Grant I may so 
Thy steps track here below, 



VIII. 

That in these masques and shadows I may see 

Thy sacred way ; 
And by those hid ascents climb to that day 

Which breaks from Thee, 
Who art in all things, though invisibly. 

Show me Thy peace, 
Thy mercy, love, and ease. 



176 HYMNS A ND POEMS 



IX. 

And from this care, where dreams and sorrows reign, 

Lead me above, 
Where light, joy, leisure, and true comforts move, 

Without all paine : 
There, hid in Thee, show me his life againe, 

At whose dumbe urn 
Thus all the year I mourn ! 



&fje Jterorrotfon of tfje flesfj ; attU everlasting life after 
neatfj ? 

THE MYSTERY OF NATURE. 

"TT THY roam'st thou, sad and downward eyed ; 
V V Pale pilgrim, sable clad ? 
While earth bedecks her like a bride, 
In vernal sunshine glad. 

" The snowdrop's reign is almost gone, 
And gayer flowers unfold, 
Narcissus with its clusters fair, 

And crocus gleaming gold. 

" But thou the while dost paler grow, 
More sadness hangs o'er thee, 
As if this pomp of loveliness 

It sickened thee to see." 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING I 77 

" There was a time when I drank in 
The sunshine of the spring, 
Which now upon my faded brow 
Doth baneful shadows fling. 

" But nature's face is changed to me, 
In funeral trappings clad, 
The more all other hearts are gay, 
The more my heart is sad. 

" Earth, in her winter dress of gloom, 
Is welcome to my eye, 
But spare me all her pomp and glare 
Of vernal pageantry." 

" O say not so, thou pilgrim pale, 

But muse and pray awhile ; 
And so shall nature's darkened face 
Resume its morning smile. 

" Look on her with the eye of faith, 
And so thy heart shall learn, 
Of her mysterious loveliness 

The meaning to discern. 

" We may not turn in gloom away, 

For One her ground hath trod, 
And left a glory round her path, 
Our Master and our God ; 



178 HYMNS AND POEMS 

" And since that hour, this wondrous world 
Is but the outer shell, 
Which wraps a world more wondrous still 
Wherein His chosen dwell. 

"And He who framed that inner world 
With His creative breath, 
Has rent in twain the barrier stern, 
That parted life from death. 

" Alike on either side the tomb 

That unseen realm is spread, 
It knows no severing line between 
The living and the dead. 

" The saints we see not, gathered there, 
Blend with the saints we see ; 
One hidden life pervading all 
In mystic unity. 

" And in the fulness of the time, 
This outer world of sin 
Shall burst and shrivel, and disclose 
The glorious world within. 

" Then shall the sons of God no more 
Seem like to sons of clay, 
Their hidden sacramental life 
Made manifest that day. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING I 79 

" And all the beauty that we see 
Clothing this outer earth, 
Is but the type, perchance the germ, 
Of her immortal birth. 

" Then shrink not from the gorgeous spring, 
For all her flowers are born 
Blest harbingers, to herald forth 
The resurrection morn. 

" And dream of dreariness no more, 

But rouse thee, toil and pray ; 
So thou in thine own lot mayst stand, 
Safe on that awful day." 



&E fljfe E strtfegtls bditbt. 
MARK IX. 24. 

"LORD, I BELIEVE; HELP THOU MINE UNBELIEF." 

J. S. Monsell. 

YES ! I do feel, my God, that I am Thine ! 
Thou art my joy, — myself, mine only grief \ 
Hear my complaint, low bending at Thy shrine, — 
"Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief 1" 

Unworthy even to approach so near, 

My soul lies trembling like a summer's leaf; 

Yet, O forgive ! I doubt not, though I fear, — 
"Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief!" 



l8o HYMNS AND POEMS 

True, I am weak, ah very weak, — but then 
I know the source whence I can draw relief; 

And though repulsed, I still can plead again — 
"Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief!" 

O draw me nearer ! for, too far away, 

The beamings of Thy brightness are too brief ; 

While Faith, though fainting, still hath strength to 
pray— 
"Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief!" 



911 tfjis E stettfastfe frdtow. 
FAITH. 

Henry Vaughan. 

BRIGHT and blest beam ! whose strong pro- 
jection 

Equal to all, 
Reacheth as well things of dejection, 

As the high and tall ; 
How hath my God by raying thee 

Enlarged His spouse, 
And of a private familie 

Made open house ! 
All may be now co-heirs ; no noise 

Of bond ox free 
Can interdict us from those joys 

That wait on Thee. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



The Law and ceremonies made 

A glorious night, 
Where stars, and clouds, both light and shade 

Had equal right : 
But as in nature, when the day 

Breaks, night adjourns, 



So when the Sun of righteousness 

Did once appear, 
That scene was changed, and a new dresse, 

Left for us here ; 
Veils became useless, altars fell, 

Fires smoking die ; 
And all that sacred pomp and shell 

Of things did flie. 
Then did He shine forth, whose sad fall 

And bitter fights 
Were figured in those mystical 

And cloudie rites : — 
And as in the natural Sun, these three, 

Light, motion, heat, 
So are now Faith, Hope, Charity, 

Through Him complete. 
Faith spans up bliss e ; what sin and death 

Put us quite from, 
Lest we should run for't out of breath, 

Faith brings us home ; 
So that I need no more, but say — 

" I do believe," 
And my most loving Lord straightway 

Doth answer ; " live." 



COLLECT. 

@ mo£t merciful (!lob, roljo, according to % 
multitude of 5H)g merciejef, bogt go put aroag tlje 
gin* of tfyoge toI}o trulg repent, ttyat Sljou remem- 
bered tljem no more; ©pen gTIjine ege of mercg 
upon tlji* SH)g .servant, toljo mo£t earnegtlg be- 
giretl) parbon anb forgiveness, fieneto in I)im, 
mo#t losing Jfatljer, ml)atgoet)er IjatI) been becageb 
bg tl)e fraub anb malice of tl}e benil, or bg fyig 
oron carnal mill anb frailneg* ; pregerne anb con= 
tinue tl)i£ sick member in t\)t nnitg of % dljurcl) : 
con^iber t)ig contrition, accept \)i$ tear*, aggtoage 
I)i* pain, a* gfyall geem to §£l)ee mogt espebient 
for Ijim. Jlnb foragmucl) a* l)e pnttett) \)i$ full 
trugt onlg in §fl)g mercg, impnte not unto \}ira 
\)i& former gin*, but gtrengtl)en I)im mitl) S% 
bleggeb Spirit ; anb mfjen Sl)ou art pleageb to 
take Ijim Ijence, take l)im unto 5H)g favour, tljrougl) 
tlje merit* of Sl)g mogt bearlg beloueb JSon |e*u* 
dl)ri*t our Jorb. ^men. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 83 



©pttt W^int Z£t of mercg ttpon tfjfe &?J£ servant, fofjo most 
earrostlg tetretfj pariiou attfc forgttoss. 

PSALM CXXX. 

Phineas Fletcher. 

FROM the depths of grief and fear, 
O Lord ! to Thee my soul repairs : 
From Thy Heaven bow down Thine ear ; 
Let Thy mercy meet my prayers. 
O if Thou mark'st 

What's done amiss, 
What soul so pure, 
Can see Thy bliss ? 

But with Thee sweet mercy stands, 

Sealing pardons, working fear : 
Wait my soul, wait on His hands ; 
Wait mine eye, O wait mine ear : 
If He his eye 

Or tongue affords, 
Watch all His looks, 
Catch all His words. 

As a watchman waits for day, 

And looks for light, and looks again \ 

When the night grows old and gray, 
To be relieved he calls amain \ 
p 



184 HYMNS AND POEMS 

So look, so wait, 

So long mine eyes, 
To see my Lord, 

My Sun arise. 

Wait, ye saints, wait on our Lord ; 

For from His tongue sweet mercy flows : 
Wait on His cross, wait on His word ; 
Upon that tree redemption grows ; 
He will redeem 

His Israel 
From sin and wrath, 
From death and hell. 



<&$m Wbjint t£t of mercg upon t fjis ^g serfaant 
PSALM XLII. 

PARAPHRASE. 
* Lewis Way. 

LIKE as the thirsty roe doth strive 
To reach the river side, 
My longing soul, to God alive, 
Desireth none beside. 

For God, the living God, I pant, 

His countenance to see, 
For in His presence all I want 

Will manifested be. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 185 

Tears are my meat by day and night, 

Beneath His chast'ning rod ; 
My foes continually say, 

"Ah ! where is now thy God?" 

I think thereon with pensive care, 

In secret muse alone, 
Or with the multitude repair 

To bow before His throne. 

With such as keep His holy day 

My feeble voice I raise, 
I find it good with them to pray, 

To offer thanks and praise. 

Then why so heavy, O my soul ? 

Why sinks the drooping head ? 
His mercy soon will make thee whole, 

Be not disquieted. 

Remember Jordan's promised land ; 

The people vexed like you, 
Shall taste again at His command 

Of Hermon's heavenly dew. 

One deep doth on another call, 

Like waterpipes below, 
The waves uprising but to fall, 

Subsiding as they flow. 

The loving-kindness of the day 

Shall be my nightly song, 
And while I live, to Him I'll pray 

Who doth my life prolong. 



1 86 HYMNS AND POEMS 

When I am weak He still supplies 
The strength I daily need, 

And at His word mine enemies 
Are all discomfited. 

He ever lifteth up my face 
To look to Him alone, 

The God and giver of all grace, 
The glorious Holy One ! 



©pen W^int ege of mercg ttpon tfjts &ffg serbant 

R. C. Trench. 

NOT Thou from us, O Lord, but we 
Withdraw ourselves from Thee. 
When we are dark and dead, 
And Thou art covered with a cloud, 
Hanging before Thee, like a shroud, 
So that our prayer can find no way, 
O teach us that we do not say, 
"Where is thy brightness fled?" 

But that we search and try 

What in ourselves has wrought this blame ; 

For Thou remainest still the same, 

But earth's own vapours earth may fill 

With darkness and thick clouds, while still 

The sun is in the sky. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 87 

4$vm Wfyiriz ege of metcg upon tfjts Wi}^ servant* 

A PRAYER. 

(part.) 

Princess Elizabeth [Queen of Bohemia). 

OMY God ! for Christ His sake, 
Quite from me this dulness take ; 
Cause me earth's love to forsake, 
And of Heaven my realm to make. 

If early thanks I render Thee, 
That Thou hast enlightened me 
With such knowledge that I see 
What things most behoveful be ; 

O enlighten more my sight, 
And dispel my darksome night, 
Good Lord, by Thy heavenly light, 
And Thy beams most pure and bright. 

What care I for lofty place, 
If the Lord grant me His grace, 
Showing me His pleasant face, 
And with joy I end my race ? 

O my soul of heavenly birth, 
Do thou scorn this basest earth ; 
Place not here thy joy and mirth, 
Where of bliss is greatest dearth. 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



From below thy mind remove 
And affect the things above : 
Set thy heart and fix thy love 
Where the truest joys shalt prove. 

If I do love things on high, 
Doubtless them enjoy shall I ; 
Earthly pleasures if I try, 
They pursued faster fly. 

To me grace, O Father, send, 
On Thee wholly to depend, 
That all may to Thy glory tend ; 
So let me live, so let me end. 

Now to the true Eternal King, 
Not seen with human eye, 

Th' immortal, only wise, true God, 
Be praise perpetually ! 



2&enefo in fym, most lo&ing JFatijer, fofyatsoefcer fyatfy been 
trecasetr fog tljc frattti an& malice of tfye trebil, or fog fjis ofon 
carnal brill atttt frailness ; 

P. C. Trench. 

ONCE if I felt no heart or strength to pray, 
If on a sudden vanished quite I found 
The goods wherein I dreamed I did abound, 
And this blank mood continued many a day, 
I was quite swallowed up in dim dismay : 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 89 

My heart, I said, by deadly frost is bound, 
And never will warm days again come round : 
But now more hopefully I learn to say — 
Either some sin is lurking in my breast, 
Troubling the host, 1 which being once confest, 
He will His presence and His light restore, 
Or thus one needful lesson He is fain 
To teach — that in ourselves we are always poor, 
Which learned, He soon will make me rich again. 



Preserve atttr continue tfjfa sick member in tfje tmttg of tije 
Cftttreft ; 

EMPLOYMENT. 

George Herbert. 

IF as a flower doth spread and die, 
Thou would'st extend me to some good, 
Before I were by frosts' extremity 

Nipt in the bud ; 

The sweetness and the praise were Thine ; 
But the extension and the room 
Which in Thy garland I should fill, were mine, 
At Thy great doom. 

For as Thou dost impart Thy grace, 
The greater shall our glory be. 
The measure of our joys is in this place, 
The stuff with Thee. 

1 See Josh. vii. 25. 



I90 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Let me not languish, then, and spend 
A life as barren to Thy praise, 
As in the dust to which that life doth tend, 
But with delays. 

All things are busy ; only I 
Neither bring honey with the bees, 
Nor flowers to make that, nor the husbandry 
To water these. 

I am no link of Thy great chain, 
But all my company is as a weed. 
Lord ! place me in Thy concert ; give one strain 
To my poor reed. 



Preserve antf continue tfjts strft member in tfje ttnttg of tfje 
(£Jjttrtfy ; 

THE CONSTELLATION. 

(PART. ) 

Henry Vaughan. 

THUS, by our lusts disordered into wars, 
Our guides prove wand'ring stars, 
Which for these mists and black days were reserved, 
What time we from our first love swerved. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 191 

Yet O for His sake who sits now by Thee, 

All crowned with victory, 
So guide us through this darkness, that we may 

Be more and more in love with day ! 

Settle and fix our hearts, that we may move 

In order, peace, and love ; 
And, taught obedience by Thy whole creation, 

Become an humble, holy nation ! 

Give to Thy spouse her perfect and pure dress, 

Beauty and Holiness ; 
And so repair these rents, that men may see 

And say, "Where God is, all agree." 



fflxtmbt attti continue tfjts stxft member in tfje unrig) of tip 

Cljurrfj ; 

SUNDAY. 

(part.) 

George Herbert. 

ODAY most calm, most bright ! 
The fruit of this, the next world's bud ; 
Th' indorsement of supreme delight, 
Writ by a friend, and with His blood ■ 
The couch of time, care's balm and bay : — 
The week were dark but for thy light ; 
Thy torch doth show the way. 



I92 HYMNS AND POEMS 

The Sundays of man's life 
Threaded together on time's string, 
Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
Of the eternal glorious King. 
On Sunday, heav'n's gate stands ope, 
Blessings are plentiful and rife, 

More plentiful than hope. 

Thou art a day of mirth ; 
And, where the week-days trail on ground, 
Thy flight is higher, as thy birth. 
O let me take thee at the bound, 
Leaping with thee from seven to seven, 
Till that we both, being tossed from earth, 

Fly hand in hand to heaven. 



ilreserfo antf rotttmue tfjts stcft member in tty tmttg jrf tfje 
(Efjurcfj ; 

SECRET PRAYER. 

S. Wilberforcs. 

FROM the deep stillness of its mossy head, 
Full-fed by seething mists, the lonely rill 
Bounds on from stone to stone at its free will, 
Murmuring sweet music in its rocky bed ; 
By all save lonely bird unvisited — 
Yet ever with straight course advancing still 
Towards the common sea which all streams fill, 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 93 

As one by an unswerving instinct led. — 
Most like the sigh of solitary prayer, 
From the hid fountains of some burthened heart, 
Poured forth in secret, e'en as though there were 
None with itself life's mystery to share ; — 
Yet adding still, by an unconscious art, 
To the whole Church's voice its own melodious 
part. 



1$xmx\& auK contmtte tfjfe strife mztttfm in tty tmttg erf flj* 
(£fjttrrfy ; 

SUNDAY. 

F. Hema7is. 

HOW many blessed groups this hour are bend- 
ing, 
Through England's primrose meadow-paths, their 

way 
Towards spire and tower, 'midst shadowy elms as- 
cending, 
"Whence the sweet chimes proclaim the hallowed 

day! 
The halls from old heroic ages grey 
Pour their fair children forth ; and hamlets low, 
With whose thick orchard-blooms the soft winds 

play, 
Send out their inmates in a happy flow, 
Like a freed vernal stream. / may not tread 
With them those pathways — to the feverish bed 



194 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Of sickness bound ; — yet, my God, I bless 
Thy mercy, that with sabbath peace hath fill'd 
My chasten'd heart, and all its throbbings still'd 
To one deep calm of lowliest thankfulness. 



fge pttltetfy fjts fall trust ottlg in Wc^ merqj* 
JOY AND PEACE IN BELIEVING. 

J. Newton. 

SOMETIMES a light surprises 
The Christian while he sings ; 
It is the Lord, who rises 

With healing in His wings : 
When comforts are declining, 

He grants the soul again 
A season of clear shining, 
To cheer it after rain. 

In holy contemplation, 

We sweetly then pursue 
The theme of God's salvation, 

And find it ever new ; 
Set free from present sorrow, 

We cheerfully can say — 
E'en let the unknown to-morrow 

Bring with it what it may, 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 95 

It can bring with it nothing, 

But He will bear us through ; 
Who gives the lilies clothing, 

Will clothe His people too ; 
Beneath the spreading Heavens 

No creature but is fed ; 
And He who feeds the ravens, 

Will give His children bread. 

Though vine nor fig-tree neither 

Their wonted fruit shall bear, 
Though all the field should wither, 

Nor flocks nor herds be there : 
Yet God the same abiding, 

His praise shall tune my voice ; 
For, while in Him confiding, 

I cannot but rejoice. 



^trengftett fym fcritfj Wfy£ ftlessetf spirit ; attfr, fcrfjm fflfyau 
art pleased to tafte fjim fjence, take fjim tmto Kfy favour, 
tfjrougfy tfje merits of Wf)£ most fcearlg oelobeti &on testis 
Christ our %oxti. Qmu. 

MISERY. 

(PART.) 

Henry Vatighan. 

SUCH is man's life, and such is mine, 
The worst of men, and yet still Thine ; 



196 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Still Thine, Thou know'st, and if not so, 

Then give me over to my foe. 

Yet since as easy 'tis for Thee 

To make man good as bid him be, 

And with one glance (could he that gain) 

To look him out of all his pain, 

O send me from Thy holy hill, 

So much of strength, as may fulfil 

All Thy delights (whate'er they be) 

And sacred institutes in me ! 

Open my rockie heart, and fill 

It with obedience to Thy will ; 

Then seal it up, that as none see, 

So none may enter there but Thee. 

O hear, my God ! Hear him whose blood 

Speaks more and better for my good ! 

O let my crie come to Thy throne ! 

My crie not poured with tears alone, 

(For tears alone are often foul,) 

But with the blood of all my soul ; 

With spirit sighs, and earnest groans, 

Faithful and most repenting moans ; 

With these I crie, and crying pine, 

Till Thou both mend, and make me Thine ! 



PSALM LXXL 

i In Sfljee, © llorb, l)at)e I put mg trust ; let 
me net)er be put to confusion : but rib me, anb 
beliuer me in ®i)g righteousness ; incline Stljftte 
ear unto me, anb saue me, 

2 |ge ©Ijou mg strong !)olb, trTgereunto 1 mag 
altoag report : Sljou tyast promise!) to Ijelp me ; 
for ®l)0u art mg fyouse of befence, anb mg tattle. 

3 pelber me, @ mg (Hob, out of tl)e l)anb of 
tlje ungoblg : out of tlje fyanb of tije unrighteous 
anb cruel man, 

4 <ffor ©fyou, © |Dorb (Sob, art % tying tljat 
I long for : Sfyou art mg fyope, tmn from mg 
goutlj. 

5 Strong!} Sljee Ijane I been Ijolben up ener 
Since I mas born : Sfljjiro art fje tljat took me 
out of mg mother's toomb ; mg praise sljall al- 
roag be of ®l)ee. 

6 1 am become as it mere a monster unto 
mang : but mg sure trust is in ©Ijee* 

7 ® let mg mout!) be filled mitl) <ft!)g praise : 
tl)at 1 mag sing of Sl)g glorg anb honour all 
t\)t bag long, 

8 (last me not atoag in tl)e time of age : 
forsake me not rofyen mg strength failetl) me. 

9 jfor mine enemies Speak against me, anb 



198 



tljeg tljat lag mait for mg gonl take tljeir conn- 
gel together, paging : dob I)atl) forsaken l)im, 
persecute Ijim, anb take l)im ; for tl)ere i# none 
to Miner \)im. 

10 do not far from me, @ dob : mg dob, 
Ijagte Stjee to fyelp me* 

11 |Let tljem be confonnbeb anb perigi) tljat 
are againgt mg gonl : let tl)em be eouereb mitl) 
£l)ame anb bigljononr tljat geek to bo me euil. 

12 $tg for me, 1 mill patientlg abibe altoag : 
anb mill praige Sftjee more anb more. 

13 $Eg motxtl) gl)all bailg gpeak of Styg rigl)t- 
eongnegg aitb gatoation : for 1 kttom no enb 
thereof. 

14 1 mill go fortl) in tfye gtrengtl) of tl)e Jorb 
dob : anb mill make mention of 2Cl)g rigtyteong- 
negg onlg. 

15 ©ijon, @ dob, I)a#t tangl)t me from mg 
gontl) np nntil nom : therefore mill 1 tell of Sfyg 
monbrong morkg* 

16 Jforgake me not, @ dob, in mine olb age, 
xotyn I am grag-fyeabeb : nntil i Ijane gfyomeb 
5fl)g gtrengt!) nnto tl)ig generation, anb ©Ijg pomer 
to all tt)em tljat are get for to come, 

17 §fl)g rigfyteongnejatf, © dob, ig t)erg I)igl), 
anb great tljingg are tl)eg tl)at Sl)on I)agt bone : 
@ dob, ml)o ig like nnto Styee? 

dlorg be to t\)t Jfatljer, anb to tl)e JSon : anb 
to tlje folg dl)0*t ; 

$t* it mag in tlje beginning, ig nom, anb ener 
jetyall be : morlb mitljont enb. JStmen. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 1 99 



Psdm M3BEL 

Sir. R. Grant. 

WITH years oppressed, with sorrows worn, 
Dejected, harassed, sick, forlorn, 
To Thee, O God, I pray : 
To Thee, my withered hands arise, 
To Thee I lift these failing eyes, 
O cast me not away ! 

Thy mercy heard my infant prayer, 
Thy love, witii all a mother's care, 

Sustained my childish days : 
Thy goodness watched my ripening youth, 
And formed my heart to love Thy truth, 

And filled my lips with praise. 

O Saviour ! has Thy grace declined ? 
Can years affect the Eternal mind ? 

Or time its love decay ? — 
A thousand ages pass Thy sight, 
And all their long and weary flight 

Is gone like yesterday. 

Then, even in age and grief, Thy name 
Shall still my languid heart inflame, 
Q 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



And bow my faltering knee : 
O yet this bosom feels the fire, 
This trembling hand and drooping lyre 

Have yet a strain for Thee. 

Yes ! broken, tuneless, still, O Lord, 
This voice transported shall record 

Thy goodness tried so long ; 
Till sinking slow, with calm decay, 
Its feeble murmurs melt away 

Into a seraph's song. 



En GTfjee, <B Eortr, fjabe E put mg trust. ♦ ♦ ♦ 33e tEfjott 
tnjr strong fyoltr, foijeretmto I mag alfoag resort ; &fjou fjast 
promised to fyelp me ; 

R. C. Trench. 
I. 

ONE time I was allowed to steer 
Through realms of azure light ; — 
Henceforth, I said, I need not fear 

A lower meaner flight ; 
But here shall evermore abide, 
In light and splendour glorified. 

ii. 
My heart one time the rivers fed, 

Large dews upon it lay ; 
A freshness it has won, I said, 

Which shall not pass away, 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 201 



But what it is, it shall remain, 
Its freshness to the end retain. 



in. 

But when I lay upon the shore, 
Like some poor wounded thing, 

I deemed I should not ever more 
Refit my shattered wing — 

Nailed to the ground and fastened there : 

This was the thought of my despair. 

IV. 

And when my very heart seemed dried, 
And parched as summer dust, 

Such still I deemed it must abide ; 
No hope had I, no trust 

That any power again could bless 

With fountains that waste wilderness. 



But if both hope and fear were vain, 
And came alike to nought, . 

Two lessons we from this may gain, 
If aught can teach us aught — 

One lesson rather — to divide 

Between our fearfulness and pride. 



202 HYMNS AND POEMS 



JFor Gtfjou, <& Eorto <&cto t art tfje t fftng tfjat J long &r : 
Eijou art tug fjope, efcett from ms gouty* 

HYMN. 

(part.) 

From the German of Tersteegen. 

THOU hidden love of God, whose height, 
Whose depth unfathom'd no man knows ! 
I see from far Thy beauteous light, 

Inly I sigh for Thy repose ; 
My heart is pain'd, nor can it be 
At rest, till it find rest in Thee. 

Thy secret voice invites me still 

The sweetness of Thy yoke to prove ; 

And fain I would, but though my will 
Seem fix'd, yet wide my passions rove, 

Yet hindrances strew all the way, 

I aim at Thee, yet from Thee stray. 

'Tis mercy all, that Thou hast brought 
My mind to seek its peace in Thee, 

Yet while I seek but find Thee not, 
No peace my wand'ring soul shall see : 

O when shall all my wand'rings end, 

And all my steps to Jesus tend ! 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 203 

What is there more that hinders me 
From ent'ring to Thy promis'd rest, 

Abiding there substantially, 
And being permanently blest ? 

O Love, my inmost soul expose, 

And every hindrance now disclose. 

Is there a thing beneath the sun 

That strives with Thee my heart to share ? 
Ah ! tear it thence and reign alone 

The Lord of every motion there. 
Then shall my heart from earth be free, 
When it hath found repose in Thee. 

Tell me, O God, if aught there be 
Of self that wills not Thy controul ; 

Reveal what e'er impurity 

May still be lurking in my soul : 

To reach Thy rest, and share Thy throne, 

Mine eyes must look to Thee alone. 

Each moment draw from earth away 
My heart, that lowly waits Thy call ; 

Speak to my inmost soul and say, — 
" I am thy Love, thy God, thy All." 

To feel Thy power, to hear Thy voice, 

To taste Thy love, be all my choice. 



204 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Efjrougfy tZTfjee fjabe X been Jjoltien up eber since J bias 
born . . ♦ iBlg praise sfjall albmjj be of CJjee. 

EPITAPH ON HIMSELF. 

Gambold. 

ASK not, who ended here his span ? 
His name, reproach, and praise was — man. 
Did no great deeds adorn his course ? 
No deed of his, but showed him worse : 
One thing was great, which God supplied, 
He suffered human life — and died. 
What points of knowledge did he gain ? 
That life was sacred all — and vain. 
Sacred, how high, and vain, how low ? 
He knew not here — but died to know. 



» let ms tnout !j be filletf bitlj Wy& praise : tfrat I tnajj sing 
of GHjij glorjj anti Jjonour all tfje trag long* 

R. C. Trench. 



SOME murmur, when their sky is clear 
And wholly bright to view, 
If one small speck of dark appear 
In their great heaven of blue : 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 205 

And some with thankful love are filled 

If but one streak of light, 
One ray of God's good mercy gild 
The darkness of their night. 

11. 
In palaces are hearts that ask, 

In discontent and pride, 
Why life is such a dreary task, 

And all good things denied : 
And hearts in poorest huts admire 

How Love has in their aid 
(Love that not ever seems to tire) 

Such rich provision made. 



Cast me not afoag in tfje time of age : fbrsafte me not foijen 
mg strength fatietf; me. 

THE NIGHT BEFORE HIS DEATH. 

Sir W. Raleigh. 

EVEN such is time ; that takes on trust 
Our youth, our joyes, our all we have, 
And pays us but with age and dust ; 
Who in the dark and silent grave 
(When we have wandered all our ways) 
Shuts up the story of our days. — 
But from this earth, this grave, this dust, 
My God shall raise me up, I trust. 



206 HYMNS AND POEMS 



JFor mint enemies speak against me, anti tfjeg tfjat lag foait 
for mg soul take tfjeir tounsel together, saging: (Koto fjat^ 
forsaken Jjim, persecute i)im, anti take fjim ; for tfjere is none 
to fceliber fjim* &o not far from me, (Koto: mg (Sxotr, fjaste 
Wfyzz to trelpr me* 

Francis Davison. 

HEAR, O Lord and God ! my cries ; 
Mark my foes' unjust abusing ; 
And illuminate my eyes, 

Heavenly beams in them infusing ; 

Lest my woes, too great to bear, 

And too infinite in number, 
Rock me soon 'twixt hope and fear, 

Into death's eternal slumber ; 

Lest my foes their boasting make, 
" Spite of right on him we trample ;" 

And a pride in mischief take, 
Heartened by my sad example. 

As for me, I'll ride secure 

At Thy mercy's sacred anchor, 
And undaunted will endure 

Fiercest storms of wrong and rancour. 

These black clouds will overblow, 
Sunshine shall have his returning, 

And my grief-wrung heart, I know, 
Into mirth shall change his mourning. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 207 

Therefore I'll rejoice and sing 

Hymns to God, in sacred measure, 

Who to happy pass will bring 

My just hopes, at His good pleasure. 



$te for me, J MI patiently afrfte alfoag ; anti fotU praise 
Efjee more anti more. 

RECOVERING BODILY HEALTH. 

PSALM CXVI. 



M 



Sandys. 

Y soule intirely shall affect 
The Lord, whose eares my groans respect : 
In misery 
He heard thy cry ; 
To Him thy prayers direct. 



Sorrowes of Death my soule assailed, 
The greedy jaws of hell prevailed : 

Depressed with griefe 
When all reliefe 
And human pity failed, 

I cried — My God, O look on me ; 

Thou ever just, the afflicted free : 
O from the grave 
Thy servant save ; 
For mercy lives in Thee. 



2o8 HYMNS AND POEMS 

The innocent and long distressed, 
The humble mind by wrongs opprest, 
Thy favour still 
Preserves from ill ; 
My soule then take thy rest. 

God stayed my feet, and dried my teares, 

Redeemed from death and deadly feares, 

That still I might 

Walk in His sight, 

And number many yeares. 

Thus, with a firm belief, I prayed, 
Yet in extremes of trouble said, — 

All on the earth 

Of mortal birth, 
Even all, of lies are made. 

What shall I unto God restore 
For all His mercies ? Fall before 
His holy throne, 
And Him alone 
With sacred rites adore. 

I will performe my vowes this day, 
Where they frequent who God obey ; 
Right precious is 
The death of His ; 
He sees, and will repay. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERIXG 2 09 

Lord, I am Thine, Thy handmaid's seed, 
By Thee from raging tyrants freed, 

My prayers shall rise 

In sacrifice ; 
My Thanks Thy altar feed. 

I will performe my vowes this day, 
Where they frequent who God obey ; 
Even in His court 
Within thy fort, 
Renowned Solyma. 



iiHg moutfj sfjall trails speak of Cfjg rttnjteousncss anU ■ 
salfcatum : for I knofo no eitil t^rreaf* 

PRAISE. 

(part.) 

Henry VaugJian. 

KING of comforts ! King of life ! 
Thou hast cheered me ; 
And when fears and doubts were rife, 
Thou hast cleared me. 

Not a nook in all my breast 

But Thou nll'st it, 
Not a thought, that breaks my rest, 

But Thou kill'st it ; 



2IO HYMNS AND POEMS 

Wherefore with my utmost strength 

I will praise Thee, 
And as Thou giv'st line and length 

I will raise Thee ; 

Day and night, not once a day, 

I will blesse Thee, 
And, my soul in new array, 

I will dresse Thee ; 

Not one minute in the year 

But I'll mind Thee, 
As my seal and bracelet here 

I will bind Thee ; 

In Thy word, as if in Heaven, 

I will rest me ; 
And Thy promise, till made even 

There shall feast me. 

Then Thy sayings all my lite, 
There shall please me, 

And Thy bloody wounds and strife, 
They will ease me ; 

With Thy grones my daily breath 

I will measure ; 
And my life hid in Thy death, 

I will treasure. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 211 



5 fcrill go forty in tfje strength of tfje 3LorU (Eofc : anti foill 
, make mention of Efjg righteousness onlg„ 

THE AGREEMENT. 

(PART. ) 

Henry Vaughan. 

— T TNTIL Thou didst comfort me 

vJ I had not one poor word to say : 
Thick busie clouds did multiply, 

And said I was no childe of day ; 
They said, my own hands did remove 
That candle given me from above. 

O God ! I know and do confess 
My sins are great and still prevail, 

(Most heinous sins and numberless ;) 
But Thy compassions cannot fail. 

If Thy sure mercies can be broken, 

Then all is true my foes have spoken. 

But while time runs, and after it 

Eternity which never ends, 
Quite through them both, still infinite, 

Thy covenant by Christ extends, 
No sins of frailty, nor of youth, 
Can foil His merits, and Thy truth. 

And this I hourly finde, for Thou 

Dost still renew, and purge and heal : 

Thy care and love, which jointly flow, 
New cordials, new cathartics deal. 



212 H YMNS A ND POEMS 

But were I once cast off by Thee, 
I know, my God, this would not be. 

Wherefore with tears, tears by Thee sent, 
I beg my faith may never faile ! 

And when in death my speech is spent, 
O let that silence then prevaile ! 

O chase in that cold calm my foes, 

And hear my heart's last private throes ! 

So Thou, who didst the work begin, 
For I, till drawn, came not to Thee, 

Wilt finish it, and by no sin 

Will Thy free mercies hindred be. 

For which, O God, I only can 

Bless Thee, and blame unthankful Man. 



<® <£o&, fcrfjo is like unto Wqzz ? 
RECOVERY FROM SICKNESS. 

THE FLOWER. 

George Herbert. 

HOW fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean 
Are Thy returns ! ev'n as the flowers in 
spring; 
To which, besides their own demean, 
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring : 
Grief melts away, 
Like snow in May ; 
As if there were no such cold thing. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 213 

Who would have thought my shrivell'd heart 
Could have recover'd greenness ? It was gone 

Quite underground : as flowers depart 
To see their mother-root, when they have blown ; 
Where they together, 
All the hard weather, 
Dead to the world, keep house unknown. 

These are Thy wonders, Lord of power ! 
Killing and quick'ning ; bringing down to hell, 

And up to Heaven in an hour ; 
Making a chiming — of sl passing-bell. 
We say amiss, 
This or that is ; 
Thy word is all, if we could spell. 

O that I once past changing were, 
Fast in Thy Paradise, where no flower can wither ! 

Many a spring I shoot up fair, 
Offering at Heaven, growing and groaning thither : 
Nor doth my flower 
Want a spring shower, 
My sins and I joining together. 

But, while I grow in a straight line, 
Still upwards bent, as if Heaven were mine own 

Thy anger comes, and I decline. 
What frost to that ? What pole is not the zone 
Where all things burn, 
When Thou dost turn, 
And the least frown of Thine is shown? 



214 HYMNS A ND POEMS 

And now in age I bud again, 
After so many deaths I live and write, 
I once more smell the dew and rain, 
And relish versing. O my only light, 
It cannot be 
That I am he 
On whom Thy tempests fell all night ! 

These are Thy wonders, Lord of love ! 
To make us see we are but flowers that glide , 

Which when we once can find and prove, 
Thou hast a garden for us where to bide. 
Who would be more, 
Swelling through store, 
Forfeit their Paradise by their pride. 



(HHotg \i to tfje JFatfjer, anU to tfje &ott, attii to tfje fgolj 
ffiftost : 

&S it bias in tfje fagttmmg, is nofo, attii efcet sfjall bt : 
foorltf fcritfjout entr. Qmrn. 



1 Hickes y Devotions. " 



WAKE now, my soul, and humbly hear 
What thy mild Lord commands ; 
Each word of His will charm thine ear, 
Each word will guide thy hands. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 215 

Hark how His sweet and tender care 

Complies with our weak minds ; 
Whate'er our state and tempers are, 

Still some fit work He finds. 

They that are merry, let them sing, 

And let the sad hearts pray ; 
Let those still ply their cheerful wing, 

And these their sober way. 

So mounts the early chirping lark 

Still upwards to the skies ; 
So sits the turtle in the dark, 

Sighing out groans and cries. 

And yet the lark, and yet the dove, 

Both sing through several parts; 
And so should we, howe'er we move, 

With light or heavy hearts. 

Or rather both should both assay, 

And their cross-notes unite ; 
Both grief and joy should sing and pray, 

Since both such hopes invite. 

Hopes that all present sorrow heal, 

All present joy transcend; 
Hopes to possess, and taste, and feel 

Delights that never end. 

R 



2l6 HYMNS AND POEMS 

All glory to the sacred Three, 
All honour, power, and praise ; 

As at the first, may ever be, 
Beyond the end of days. 



(Klorg it ta flje JFatfrer, anfr to tfje &tm, an* to tfje f^clg 
Cfrfjnst; 

&s it foas in tfje beginning, ts nofo, antr eto sfjall be: 
foorltf foitfjottt ettiu &metu 

AT A SOLEMN MUSIC. 

Milton. 

BLEST pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy, 
Sphere-born, harmonious sisters, Voice and 
Verse, 
Wed your divine sounds, and mix'd power employ, 
Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce ; 
And to our high raised phantasy present 
That undisturbed song of pure concent 
Aye sung before the sapphire-coloured throne, 
To Him that sits thereon — 
With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee, 
Where the bright seraphim in burning row 
Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow, 
And the cherubic host in thousand quires 
Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, 
With those just spirits that wear victorious palms, 
Hymns devout, and holy psalms 
Singing everlastingly ; 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 2 1 7 

That we on earth with undiscording voice 

May rightly answer that melodious noise ; 

As once we did, till disproportioned sin 

Jarred against nature's chime, and with harsh din 

Broke the fair music that all creatures made 

To their great Lord, whose love their motion swayed 

In perfect diapason, whilst they stood 

In first obedience, and their state of good. 

O may we soon again renew that song, 

And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long 

To His celestial concert us unite, 

To live with Him, and sing in endless mora of light. 



® jSatnottr of tlje toorlb, toljo bg Sfyg dross 
anil precious |§loob Ijast rebeemeb us, sane us, 
anb Ijelp us, me fyumbig beseetf) §CJ)ee, © |Dorb. 



Wqt ^ltnig!)tg |Dorb, tol)o is a most strong 
totoer to ail tfyem t!)at put %ir trust in Him, to 
toljom ail things in fyeanen, in earti), anb unber 
t!)e eart!), bo bom anb obeg, be nom anb evermore 
tl)g befence ; anb make tljee knoto anb feel, tljat 
tfyere is none otI)er jlame nnber l)eat)en gh)en to 
man, in mljom, anb tljrougf) tol)om, tljou magcst 
receioe fyealtl) anb saination, but onlg tlje flame 
of onr |Lorb |esus Christ |tmen* 



Ento &oV& gracious mercg anb protection tot 
commit tljee. Wqz |Dorb bless tljee, anb keep %e. 
Stye |Dorb make ?§is face to sl)ine npon tljee, anb 
be gracious unto tljee. Sl)e |Lorb lift up |§is 
countenance upon tljee, anb gise tljee peace, botl) 
noto anb evermore, $tmen. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 219 



<& Sabtottr of tfje foorltf, fcrfj0 bg Wq& Cross atttt precious 
2Sl0otr Jjast retemetr tig, safo tts, anti Jjelp tts, foe ftumftlg 
beseecfj &fjee, <© 3Lortu 

HYMN AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS. 

FROM ST. BERNARD. 

(PART.) 

T. Whytehead. 

OTHOU Majesty Divine ! 
Was ever poverty like Thine ! 
Who, for such surpassing love, 
Yielding blood for blood, will prove 
True follower in Thy train ? 

Sharing now Thy wounds, I pray Thee, 
Let me love for love repay Thee, 
Thou whose soul for sinners smarted, 
Healer of the broken-hearted, 
Kind Father of the poor. 

What in me is wounded, broken, 
What doth sore disease betoken, 
Sweetest Saviour, make it whole, 
Then restore me, heal my soul 
With medicine divine. 

I draw near, as Thou wert by me, 
Yea I do believe Thee nigh me : 



2 20 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Heal me, Thou my hope hast been ; 
Cleanse me, and I shall be clean, 
When washed in blood of Thine. 

On my heart each stripe be written, 
Wherewith Thou for me wert smitten, 
Each deep wound, — that I may be 
Wholly crucified with Thee, 
And loving Thee alway. 

Gracious Jesu, Lord most dear, 
Guilty though I am, give ear : 
Show Thine own sweet clemency ; 
Spurn me not, though vile I be, 
From Thy blessed feet away. 

Here before Thee, fallen, weeping, 
And with tears these torn feet steeping, 
Jesu, for Thy mercy's sake, 
Pity on my misery take,. 
And one kind look let fall. 

From the cross, uplifted high, 
My Beloved, cast Thine eye : 
Turn me to Thee, heart and soul ; 
Speak the word of power, " Be whole, 
I have forgiven thee all." 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



<& £afrtour of tfje foorlfcr, fofjo bg £rjg Cross anti precious 
23loo& fjast rctoemetf tts, sabe us, anti fjrlpr xis, fcoe Jjumblg 
bmtd) Wqziy 2Lorfc* 

HEBREWS IV. 15. 

Sir Robert Grant. 
I. 

WHEN gathering clouds around I view, 
And days are dark, and friends are few, 
On Him I lean, who, not in vain, 
Experienced every human pain ; 
He sees my wants, allays my fears, 
And counts and treasures up my tears. 

11. 
If aught should tempt my soul to stray 
From heavenly wisdom's narrow way, 
To fly the good I would pursue, 
Or do the sin I would not do, — 
Still He who felt temptation's power 
Shall guard me in that dangerous hour. 

in. 
If wounded love my bosom swell, 
Deceived by those I prized too well, — 
He shall His pitying aid bestow 
Who felt on earth severer woe, 
At once betrayed, denied, or fled, 
By those who shared His daily bread. 



222 HYMNS AND POEMS 



IV. 

If vexing thoughts within me rise, 
And sore dismayed my spirit dies, 
Still He who once vouchsafed to bear 
The sickening anguish of despair, 
Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry, 
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye. 

v. 
When sorrowing o'er some stone I bend> 
Which covers what was once a friend, 
And from his voice, his hand, his smile, 
Divides me — for a little while ; 
Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed. 
For Thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead. 

VI. 

And O, when I have safely past 
Through every conflict — but the last, 
Still, still unchanging, watch beside 
My painful bed, — for Thou hast died : 
Then point to realms of cloudless day, 
And wipe the latest tear away. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



&ije aimtgfjtg ilortr . ♦ ♦ bt note anU tformore tfjg defence: 
FOR MY MOTHER. 

PSALM XLI. 3. 

J. S. MonselL 

OHOW soft that bed must be, 
Made in sickness, Lord, by Thee ! 
And that rest, how calm, how sweet, 
Where Jesus and the sufferer meet. 

It was the good Physician now 
Soothed thy cheek and chafed thy brow • 
Whispering, as He raised thy head, 
" It is I, be not afraid." 

God of glory, God of grace, 

Hear from Heaven Thy dwelling-place : 

Hear in mercy, and forgive, 

Bid Thy child believe, and live. 

Bless her, and she shall be blest ; 
Soothe her, and she shall have rest ; 
Fix her heart, her hopes above, 
Loye her, Lord, for Thou art Love. 



2 24 HYMNS A ND POEMS 



Wljtxt ts none otfjer Name unfter fjeabeu gtben to man, in 
fofjom, antf tfyrougfy fofjom, tfjou magest receive fjeaitfj anti 
*atfmtion, but onlg tfte Name of our 2Lorfc Jesus (£fjrtst* 

HOPE IN GOD. 

Francis Quarles. 

IN Thee, dear Lord, my pensive soul respires, 
Thou art the fulness of my choice desires ; 
Thou art that sacred spring, whose waters burst 
In streams to him that seeks with holy thirst. 
Thrice happy man, thrice happy thirst, to bring 
Thy fainting soul to so, so sweet a spring ; 
Thrice happy he, whose well-resolved breast 
Expects no other aid, no other rest ; 
Thrice happy he, whose downy age has been 
Reclaimed by scourges from the prime of sin ; 
And, early seasoned with the taste of truth, 
Remembers his Creator in his youth. 



Jftafte tfjee ftnofo anti feel, tfjat tfjere is none otfjer Name 
unta fjeaften gtfren to man, in fofjom, anti tfjrougfj fofjom tfjou 
magest receive fjraltfy anti saltation, but onlg tfje Name of our 
2Lorti Jesus £i)rist 

Hablngton. 

WHERE have I wandered? In what way, 
Horrid as night, 
Increast by storm, did I delight ? 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 22$ 

Thou my sad soule did often say 
'Twas death and madnesse so to stray. 

On that false ground I joy'd to tread 
Which seemed most faire, 
Though every path had a new snare, 

And every turning still did lead 

To the darke region of the dead. 

But with the surfeit of delight 

I am so tyred, 

That I now loathe what I admired ; 
And my distasted appetite 
So 'bhors the meate, it hates the sight. 

For should we naked sinne descry, 

Not beautified 

By the ayde of wantonnesse and pride, 
Like some misshapen birth 'twould lye, 
A torment to th' affrighted eye. 

But cloath'd in beauty and respect, 

Even o'er the wise 

How powerfull doth it tyrannize ; 
Whose monstrous form should they detect, 
They famine sooner would affect. 

And since these shadowes which oppresse 

My sight, begin 

To clear, and show the shape of sinne, 
A scorpion sooner be my guest, 
And warme his venome in my breast. 



2 26 HYMNS AND POEMS 

May I, before I grow so vile 

By sin agen, 

Be throwne off as a scorne to men. 
May the angry world decree t' exsile 
Me to some yet unpeopled isle, 

Where, while I struggle, and in vaine 

Labour to finde 

Some creature that shall have a minde, 
What justice have I to complaine, 
If I Thy inward grace retaine ? 

My God, if Thou shalt not exclude 

Thy comfort hence, 

What place can seem to troubled sense 
So melancholly, darke, and rude, 
To be esteemed a solitude ? 

Cast me upon some naked shore, 

When 1 may tracke 

Onely the print of some sad wrack e ; 
If Thou be there, though the seas roare, 
I shall no gentler calme implore. 

Should the Cymmerians, whom no ray 

Doth ere enlight, 

But gaine Thy grace, they've lost their night : 
Not sinners, at high noone, but they 
'Mong their blind cloudes — have found the day. 






FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 227 



fflzkz ttyz fcnofo anU fzzl y tfjat fyzxz ts none otfjer |kme 
unto Jjeafon gtbm to man, in fofjom, antJ tJjrouglj fofjom, 
tfjou magest receive Jjealtft an& saltation, but onZg tfje fkme 
of our Horti testis (florist* 

REPARATION. 

* Elizabeth B. Barrett. 

WHEN some beloved voice, that was to you 
Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly; 
And silence, against which you dare not cry, 
Aches round you like a strong disease and new, — 
What hope, what help? — what music will undo 
That silence to your sense ? Not friendship's sigh ; 
Not reason's subtle count ; not melody 
Of viols, nor of pipes which Faunus blew : 
Not songs of poets, nor of nightingales 
Whose hearts leap upward from the cypress-trees 
To the clear moon ; nor yet the spheric laws 
Self-chanted — nor the angels' sweet " all hails" — 
Met in the smile of God : nay, none of these. 
Speak, Christ, at His right hand — and fill this pause ! 



226 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Wqt "aimigfytg Eortr, fofjo is a most strong tote to all 
tfjem tfjat put tfjrir trust in ffiim ♦ • be nofo anti evermore 

EVENING. 



FATHER ! by Thy love and power 
Comes again the evening hour : 
Light has vanished, labours cease, 
Weary creatures rest in peace. 
Thou, whose genial dews distil 

On the lowliest weed that grows, 
Father ! guard our couch from ill, 

Lull Thy children to repose. 
We to Thee ourselves resign, 
Let our latest thoughts be Thine. 

ii. 

Saviour ! to Thy Father bear 
This our feeble evening prayer ; 
Thou hast seen how oft to-day 
We, like sheep, have gone astray : 
Worldly thoughts, and thoughts of pride, 

Wishes to Thy cross untrue, 
Secret faults, and undescried, 

Meet Thy spirit-piercing view, 
Blessed Saviour ! yet through Thee 
Pray that these may pardoned be. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 22g 



III. 

Holy Spirit ! breath of balm ! 
Fall on us in evening's calm : 
Yet awhile before we sleep, 
We, with Thee, will vigils keep ; 
Lead us on our sins to muse, 

Give us truest penitence, 
Then the love of God infuse, 

Breathing humble confidence ; 
Melt our spirits, mould our will, 
Soften, strengthen, comfort still ! 

IV. 

Blessed Trinity! be near 
Through the hours of darkness drear : 
When the help of man is far, 
Ye more clearly present are : 
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 

Watch o'er our defenceless head, 
Let your Angels' guardian host 

Keep all evil from our bed, 
Till the flood of morning rays 
Wake us to a song of praise. 



230 HYMNS AND POEMS 



JHafte tfyee to ftnofo antr feci, tfjat tfjere is none otfjer Name 
untier Jjeafren g&m to man, in fofjom, antJ tfjroxtgfj fofjom, tfjou 
magest receibe fjealtfj ati& saltation, but onlg tlje Name of oxir 
Eorti SJesus (Efjrist 

Sir Henry Wotton. 

OTHOU great Power, in whom I move, 
For whom I live, to whom I die, 
Behold me through Thy beams of love, 

Whilst on this couch of tears I lie ; 
And cleanse my sordid soul within, 
By Thy Christ's blood, the bath of sin. 

No hallow'd oils, no grains I need, 
No rags of saints, no purging fire ; 

One rosie drop from David's Seed 

Was worlds of seas to quench Thine ire. 

O precious ransome ! which, once paid, 

That "consummatum est" was said ; 

And said by Him, who said no more, 
But sealed it with His dying breath : 

Thou then that hast dispunged my score, 
And dying wast the death of Death, 

Be to me now, on Thee I call, 

My life, my strength, my joy, my all. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 23 1 

Wtjt 3Lorti mafte f}w face to sfjtnc upon tfjee. 
CONSOLATION. 

Elizabeth B. Barrett. 

ALL are not taken ! there are left behind 
Living Beloveds, tender looks to bring, 
And make the day-light still a blessed thing, 
And tender voices, to make soft the wind. 
But if it were not so — if I could find 
No love in all the world to answer me, 
Nor any pathway but rang hollowly, 
Where " dust to dust," the love from life disjoined — 
And if with parched lips, — as in a dearth 
Of water-springs the very deserts claim, — 
I uttered to those sepulchres unmoving 
The bitter cry, "Where are ye, O my loving?" 
I know a voice would sound, " Daughter, I am. 
Can I suffice for Heaven, and not for earth ?" 



£fje EorU malte $Jts face to sfjtne upon tfjce, ariO be gracious 
unto tfjee. 

A ubrey De Vere. 

SAD is our youth, for it is ever going, 
Crumbling away beneath our very feet : 
Sad is our life, for it is ever flowing 
In current unperceived, because so fleet : 
s 



2 2 2 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Sad are our hopes, for they were sweet in sowing, 
But tares self-sown have overtopped the wheat : 
Sad are our joys, for they were sweet in blowing— 
And still, O still their dying breath is sweet — 
And sweet is youth, although it hath bereft us 
Of that which made our childhood sweeter still : 
And sweet is middle life, for it hath left us 
A newer Good to cure an older 111 : 
And sweet are all things, when we learn to prize 

them 
Not for their sake but His, who grants them, or 

denies them ! 



Wi)t &ort( lift up J^ts countenance upon tfjee, anti gibe tfjee 
peace, fcotfj nofo an& ebermore. •Emen. 

EVENING HYMN. 

Sir Thomas Browne. 

THE night is come ; like to the day 
Depart not Thou, great God, away : 
Let not my sins, black as the night, 
Eclipse the lustre of Thy light. 
Keep still in my horizon ; for to me 
The Sun makes not the day, but Thee. 
Thou whose nature cannot sleep, 
On my temples sentry keep ; 
Guard me 'gainst those watchful foes, 
Whose eyes are open while mine close. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 



Let no dreams my head infest, 
But such as Jacob's temples blest. 
While I do rest, my soul advance, 
Make my sleep a holy trance \ 
That I may, my rest being wrought, 
Awake into some holy thought ; 
And with active vigour run 
My course, as doth the nimble Sun. 
Sleep is a death ; O make me try, 
By sleeping what it is to die ; 
And as gently lay my head 
On my grave, as now my bed. 
Howe'er I rest, great God, let me 
Awake again, at least with Thee. 
And thus assured, behold, I lie 
Securely, or to wake or die. 
These are my drowsie days ! in vain 
I do now wake to sleep again : 
O come that hour, when I shall never 
Sleep again, but wake for ever. 



234 HYMNS AND POEMS 



W$z iLorti lift up f§ts countenance upon tfjee, an& gibe tfree 
peace, fcotfj nob ano ebermore* "Etnen. 

MIDNIGHT HYMN. 

MS.fotmd in a Chest, in a Poor Woman's Cottage, 

IN the mid silence of the voiceless night, 
When, chased by airy dreams, the slumbers 
flee, 
Whom in the darkness doth my spirit seek, 
O God, but Thee ? 

And if there be a weight upon my breast, 
Some vague impression of the day foregone, 
Scarce knowing what it is, I fly to Thee, 
And lay it down. 

Or if it be the heaviness that comes 
In token of anticipated ill — 
My bosom takes no heed of what it is, 
Since 'tis Thy will. 

For O, in spite of past and present care, 
Or any thing beside — how joyfully 
Passes that silent solitary hour, 
My God, with Thee ! 



FOR THE SICK AXD SUFFERING 



More tranquil than the stillness of the night, 
More peaceful than the silence of that hour, 
More blest than any thing, my bosom lies 
Beneath Thy power. 

For what is there on earth that I desire, 
Of all that it can give or take from me ? 
Or whom in Heaven doth my spirit seek, 
O God, but Thee? 



&rib rjtbe trjee peace, irotfr nofo anti efrcrmore. ta. 

" Hi ekes' Devotiojis.' 

FAIN would my thoughts fly up to Thee, 
Thy peace, sweet Lord, to find, 
But when I offer, still the world 
Lays clogs upon my mind. 

Sometimes I climb a little w r ay, 

And thence look down below ; 
How nothing there, do all things seem, 

That here make such a show ! 

Then round about I turn my eyes, 

To feast my hungry sight ; 
I meet with heaven in every thing, 

In everv thins: delight. 



2 3 6 H YMNS A ND POEMS 

I see Thy wisdom ruling all, 

And it with joy admire ; 
I see myself among such hopes, 

As set my heart on fire. 

When I have thus triumph'd a while, 
And think to build my nest ; 

Some cross conceit comes fluttering by, 
And interrupts my rest. 

Then to the earth again I fall, 
And from my low dust cry ; 

'Twas not in my wing, Lord, but Thine, 
That I got up so high. 

And now, my God, whether I rise 

Or still lie down in dust, 
Both I submit to Thy blest will, 

In both on Thee I trust. 

Guide Thou my way, who art Thyself 

My everlasting end ; 
That every step, or swift or slow, 

Still to Thyself may tend. 

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
One consubstantial Three ; 

All highest praise, all humblest thanks, 
Now and for ever be. 

Amen. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 237 



fflqz 3Lorfc lift tip pjt'g rotintmance xipon tfjce, artb $ibz tfjee 
peace, botfjr ncfo antJ cbcrnxore. "Emen. 

THE PRAYER IN THE WILDERNESS. 

/\, Hemans. 

IN the deep wilderness unseen she prayed, 
The daughter of Jerusalem \ alone, 
With all the still small whispers of the night, 
And with the searching glances of the stars, 
And with her God alone : — she lifted up 
Her sweet sad voice, and, trembling o'er her head, 
The dark leaves thrilled with prayer — the tearful 

prayer 
Of woman's quenchless, yet repentant love. 

" Father of spirits, here ! — 
Look on my inmost heart to Thee revealed, 
Look on the fountain of the burning tear, 
Before Thy sight in solitude unsealed. 

" Hear, Father ! hear and aid ! 
If I have loved too well, if I have shed 
In my vain fondness, o'er a mortal head, 
Gifts, on Thy shrine, my God ! more fitting laid : 

" If I have sought to live 
But in one light, and made a human eye 
The lonely star of my idolatry, 
Thou that art Love ! O pity, and forgive. 



238 HYMNS AND POEMS 

" Chastened and schooled at last, 
No more, no more, my struggling spirit burns, 
But fixed on Thee, from that vain worship turns — 
What have I said ? — The deep dream is not past — 

" Yet hear ! if still I love, 
O still too fondly — if, for ever seen, 
An earthly image comes, my heart between, 
And Thy calm glory, Father, throned above : 

" If still a voice is near, 
E'en while I strive these wanderings to control, 
An earthly voice, disquieting my soul 
With its deep music, too intensely dear ; 

" O Father, draw to Thee 
My lost affections back — the dreaming eyes 
Clear from their mist ; — sustain the heart that dies, 
Give the worn soul once more its pinions free. 

" I must love on, O God ! 
This bosom must love on — but let Thy breath 
Touch and make pure the flame that knows not 

death, 
Raising it up to Heaven — love's own abode." 

Ages and ages past — the wilderness 
With its dark cedars, and the thrilling night 
With her clear stars — and the mysterious winds 
That waft all sound — were conscious of those prayers. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 239 

How many such hath woman's bursting heart 
Since then, in silence and in darkness breathed, 
Like a dim night-flower's odour, up to God. 



fflqz Horti lift up £$s countenance upon ttyz, arib gtse tfjee 
peace, uotf) nob anti euermore* ^men. 

THE PILGRIMAGE. 

Henry Vaughan. 

AS travellers when the twilight's come, 
And in the sky the stars appear, 
The past daie's accidents do summe 

With, " Thus we saw there, and thus here." 

Then Jacob-like, lodge in a place, 
A place, and no more, is set down, 

Where till the day restore the race 

They rest and dream homes of their own. 

So, for this night I linger here, 

And full of tossings to and fro, 
Expect still when Thou wilt appear, 

That I may get me up, and go. 

I long and groan and grieve for Thee, 
For Thee my words, my tears do gush ; 

" O that I were but where I see !" 
Is all the note within my bush. 



240 HYMNS AND POEMS 

As birds robb'd of their native wood, 
Although their diet may be fine, 

Yet neither sing, nor like their food, 
But with the thought of home do pine ; 

So do I mourn, and hang my head ; 

And though Thou dost me fulness give, 
Yet look I for far better bread, 

Because by this man cannot live. 

O feed me then ! and since I may 

Have yet more days, more nights to count, 

So strengthen me, Lord, all the way, 
That I may travel to Thy mount. 



PRAYER FOR A SICK CHILD. 

@ JUmigljtg ®ob, anb merciful Jfatljer, to 
tofyom alone belong tlje issues of life anb beatl) ; 
|Dook bourn from fyeanen, roe ljumblg besecc!) Stjee, 
tnitl) t!)e eges of mercg npon tl)is djilb noto Iging 
upon t!)e beb of sickness : Disit \)im, ® |Lorb, 
toitf) ®!)g salnation ; beliner l)im in SI)g goob 
appointed time from \)i& bobilg pain, anil sane 
I)iS soul for ®!)2 mercies' sake : Sl)at, if it sfyall 
be ©!)g pleasure to prolong I)is bags fyere on eartl) t 
l)e mag line to Sfyee, anb be an instrument of 
5CI)B glorg, bg serving Sfljee faitljfullg, anb boing 
goob in l]is generation; or else receive I)im into 
tljose fyeauenlg habitations, toljere i\)t souls of 
tljem tfyat sleep in tlje |Lorb |esns enjog perpetual 
rest anb felicitg. (grant tl)is, @ |Dorb, for Sfljg 
mercies' Sake, in ttjz same Sf)g $on our |Lorb 
|esus (florist, ml)o linetl) anb reignetl) toitl) <&I)ee 
anb tl)e Holg (gljost, ener one (Sob, morlb mitfjout 
enb. $tmen. 



242 HYMNS AND POEMS 



<& <ElmtgJ)tg <£otr, antr merciful JFatfyer, to foljom alone 
belong tfje issues of life anti treaty ; Eook fcofcm from fjeabett, 
fee frumblg beseeclj &l)ee, fcttfr tfje e^es of tncrcg upon tfjis 
cljiltr nofo Ipmg upon tfje bctJ of sickness : 

BY THE BEDSIDE OF A SICK CHILD. 

7. 5". Monsell 

NOW all is done, that love, and care, 
And skilful kindness, could suggest ; 
And He who heard our anxious prayer 
Will answer as His love deems best : 
O that both hopes and fears were still, 
Waiting on His mysterious will ! 

And yet both hopes and fears will crowd 
Around that bright and precious child ; 

And both will speak their thoughts aloud, 
Till this distracted heart is wild : 

might they all give place to one 
Heart-filling prayer, " God's will be done !" 

Sometimes a dream of what may be, 

Comes like soft sunshine o'er this heart ; 

1 hear his prattle at my knee, 

Feel his warm cheek near mine, and start 
To find it — ah ! so cold and pale 
That Hope (and well-nigh Faith) doth fail. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 243 

And then again the dream returns — 
Childhood and youth are safely o'er, 

His eye with manhood's ardour burns, 
Fears hover round his path no more : 

Hopes, with their buds and blossoms, ail 

Burst where his bounding footsteps fall. 

He seems to speak — with anxious ear 
My very heart waits breathless by ; 

His lips are parted — and I hear — 

— My precious babe, thy restless cry ! — 

E'en Hope, affrighted, flees away, 

As if it had no heart to stay. 

Come, then, my God, and take the place 
Of these distracting hopes and fears ; 

'Stablish this trembling heart with grace, 
Dry with Thine hand these falling tears ; 

And teach me to confide to Thee 

The treasure Thou couldst trust with me. 

Happy if, rescued from the straight 

Of being called on to decide, 
Here with submissive soul I wait, 

By Thy decision to abide — 
— Life, with its blessings — and its pain, 
Or Death, with its — "To die is gain." 



244 HYMNS AND POEMS 



2look fcofon from fjcaben, foe fjumblg ocseerfj Efjce, foitfj tfje 
eges of mzxzg upon tfjis cfjtto nob ijjtng upon tfje to of sick* 
ncss: 

THE SICK ROOM. 

WATCHING, through the silent hours, 
By the imrefreshed bed, 
Where disease arrays his powers, 

Whence repose is banished, 
Where time halteth, sad and slow, 
Thou art with me, Lord, I know 7 . 

When the vital forces seem 

Dwindled to as faint a spark 
As the taper's sickly gleam, 

Making darkness doubly dark — 
Lord ! I bless Thee that Thou art 
Near, to stay the sinking heart. 

When the flame, reviving, burns 

Gently, and at sleep's soft touch 
Anguish yields, and hope returns, 

Dove-like, to the smoothed couch — 
With an anxious deep-drawn sigh, 
Lord, I praise Thee, ever nigh. 

In the dim religious gloom, 

Where ' expressive silence' broods 

O'er the closely curtained room, 
Nor a stirring breath intrudes — 



FOR THE SICK AXD SUFFERING 245 

As m silent prayer I kneel, 
Thou art present, Lord. I feel. 

When reluctant hope is tied, 
When the pulses beat no more, 

And the last farewell is said, 
And the war of life is o'er — 

Lord, both the spirit and the dust 

Of our beloved, to Thee we trust.' 



Or rise rrcribe fjim into tijose fjcabrnlg IjabUalimus, brfjere 
tfye souls of tijem tfjat slrrp in tfje ilotti 2)esus nrjou. perpetual 
rrst anti tYlintp. 

OX THE DEATH OE AN INFANT. 

J. S. Monsell. 

WHY dost thou weep ? say can it be 
Because for ever blest — and free 
From sin, from sorrow, and from pain, 
Thy babe shall never weep again ; 
Shall never feel, shall never know 
E'en half thy little load of woe ? 

What was thy prayer, when his first smile 
Did thy young mother-heart beguile ? 
When his first cry was in thine ear, 
And on thy cheek his hrst wann tear. 
And to thy heart at first were prest 
The throbbing of his little breast ? 



246 HYMNS AND POEMS 



What was thy prayer ? canst thou not now 

See in his bright cherubic brow, 

Hear in his soft seraphic strain, 

So full of joy, so free from pain, 

An answer (as if God did speak), 

To all thy love had dared to seek ? 

Why therefore weep, when all the cares, 
The doubts, the troubles, and the snares, 
The threatening clouds, the falling tears, 
Childhood's wild hopes, and manhood's fears, 
That might have been for him, for thee, 
Have past away, and ne'er shall be ? 

No thorns of earth had pierced his feet, 
No bitter tempests round him beat, 
No rains upon his head descended, 
But one soft gush of tears, that blended 
With the bright sacramental shower, 
And drove him to the heavenly bower. 

He scarcely suffered, then was crowned, 
Was scarcely lost, till he was found, 
And scarcely heaved one mortal sigh, 
Then entered immortality — 
A child of thine, a child of bliss ! 
Why therefore weep for joy like this ? 

Nay, rather strive to praise the love 
That could so tenderly reprove, 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 247 

That, when it wounded, left no sting 
Of self-consuming suffering ; 
But with thy profit, linked the joy 
Of thy beloved and sainted Boy. 



&fje souls of tfyem tfjat sleep in tfje 3Lortr lesus enjog 
perpetual rest anti felicity 

Sir A ubrey de Vere. 

OFT have I thought, they err who having lost 
That love-gift of our youth, an infant child, 
Yield the faint heart to those emotions wild 
With which, too oft, strong memory is crost ; 
Shrinking with sudden gasp, as if a ghost 
Frowned in their path. Not thus the precepts mild 
Of Jesus teach ; which never yet beguiled 
Men with vain promises. God loves us most 
When chastening us : and He who conquered Death 
Permits not that we still deem death a curse. 
The font is man's true tomb ; the grave his nurse 
For Heaven, and feeder with immortal breath. 
O grieve not for the dead ! none pass from earth 
Too soon : God then fulfils His purpose in our birth ! 



248 HYMNS AND POEMS 



4&x else recetoe ?)tm into tfjose fjeabenlgf habitations, bfftxt 
tfje souls of tfjem tfjat sleep in tije 3Lorfc Jesus enjog perpetual 
test anfc felicitg* 

Elegiac Poems. 

WHERE is this infant ? it is gone — 
To whom ? to Christ, its Saviour true. 
What does He for it ? He goes on 

As He has ever done, to do — 
He blesses, He embraces without end, 
And to all children proves the tenderest friend. 

He loves to have the little ones 

Upon His lap quite close and near ; 

And thus their glass so swiftly runs, 
And they so little while are here : 

He gave — He takes them when He thinks it best 

For them to come to Him and take their rest. 

However 'tis a great delight 

Awhile to see such little princes, 
All drest in linen fine and white, 

A beauty which escapes the senses : 
The pure Lamb dwells in them — His majesty 
Makes their sweet eyes to sparkle gloriously. 

Be therefore thanked, Thou dearest Lamb, 
That we this precious child have seen, 

And that Thy blood and Jesu's name 
To it a glittering robe have been : 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 249 

We thank Thee too that Thou hast brought it home, 
That it so soon all dangers hath o'ercome. 

Dear child, so live thou happily 

In Christ, who was thy faith's beginner ; 

Rejoice in Him eternally, 

With each redeemed and happy sinner ; 

We bury thee in hope — the Lamb once slain 

Will raise, and we shall see thee yet again. 



Wqi souls of tfjem tfjat sleep in tfje Horti Sesus ettjog 
perpetual rest antf hlitity* 

EPITAPH IN THE CHURCHYARD OF HERNE. 

J. Moultrie. 

SWEET babe, from griefs and dangers 
Rest here for ever free ; 
We leave thy dust with strangers, 
But O, we leave not thee. 

Thy mortal sweetness, smitten 

To scourge our souls from sin, 
Is on our memory written, 

And treasured deep therein ; 

While that which is immortal 

Fond hope doth still retain, 
And saith, " at heaven's bright portal 

Ye all shall meet asrain." 



250 HYMNS AND POEMS 



STfjose fyeabmlg habitations, ftrfyere trje souls of tfjem tfjat 
sleep in tfje 2Lorti SJesus enjog perpetual rest ano felicity 

S. Wilberforce. 

I NEVER watched upon a wilder night — 
The maddened hurricane swept fiercely by, 
And shook his sounding wings — Impatiently, 
As wrathful men in anguish, for his flight 
The tossing trees bowed down their heads of might. 
To the rude war of earth, and sea, and sky, 
I scarce could close at last my weary eye : — 
Again I look, before the morning light, 
And all is changed — In softest lullabies 
The breeze just whispers ; o'er the countless ranks 
Of Heaven's great host the mildest moonlight lies, 
Like some broad stream fast sleeping in its banks. 
The deep calm spake of rest in Paradise ; 
I thought upon my dead — and gave God thanks. 



fflqt souls of tl;em tfjat sleep in tfje 2Lor& Jesus ettjog 
perpetual rest anti feltettg. 

THE SLEEP. 

PSALM CXXVII. 2. 

Elizabeth B. Barrett, 



O 



F all the thoughts of God that are 
Borne inward unto souls afar, 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 25 I 

Along the Psalmist's music deep — 
Now tell me if that any is, 
For gift or grace, surpassing this — 
"He giveth His beloved, sleep?" 

What would we give to our beloved ? 
The hero's heart, to be unmoved — 
The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep — 
The senate's shout for patriot vows — 
The monarch's crown to light the brows? 
"He giveth His beloved, sleep." 

What do we give to our beloved ? 

A little faith, not all unproved — 

A little dust, to overweep — 

And bitter memories, to make 

The whole earth blasted for our sake ? 

" He giveth His beloved, sleep." 

Sleep soft, beloved ! we sometimes say, 

But have no power to charm away 

Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep : 

But never doleful dream again 

Shall break the happy slumber, when 

" He giveth His beloved, sleep." 

O earth, so full of dreary noises ! 
O men, with wailing in your voices ! 
O delved gold, the wailers heap ! 
O strife, O curse, that o'er it fall ! 
God makes a silence through you all, 
And "giveth His beloved, sleep." 



252 HYMNS AND POEMS 

His dews drop mutely on the hill ; 
His cloud above it, saileth still, 
Though on its slope men toil and reap ! 
More softly than the dew is shed, 
Or cloud is floated overhead, 
" He giveth His beloved, sleep." 

Yea ! men may wonder, while they scan 
A living, thinking, feeling man 
Sufficient such a rest to keep ; 
But angels say — and through the word 
The motion of their smile is heard — 
" He giveth His beloved, sleep." 

For me, my heart, — that erst did go 
Most like a tired child at a show, 
Seeing through tears the juggler leap — 
Would fain its wearied vision close, 
And childlike on His love repose, 
Who "giveth His beloved, sleep." 

And friends ! — dear friends, — when it shall be 
That this low breath is gone from me, — 
When round my bier ye come to weep ; 
Let one, most loving of you all, 
Say, " Not a tear must o'er her fall — 
" He giveth His beloved, sleep." 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 253 



®ut Hor& %%%\x% (8%mt, fofjo Itfcetfj attfc retgttetfj fottfj 
Gffjee anti tf;e ^aig (fcijost, eber one 60ft* 

AN EASTER HYMN. 

T. Blackburne. 

AWAKE, thou wintry earth, 
Fling off thy sadness ; 
Fair vernal flower, laugh forth 
Your ancient gladness : 
Christ is risen. 

Wave, woods, your blossoms all, 

Grim death is dead ; 
Ye weeping funeral trees, 

Lift up your head : 

Christ is risen. 

Come, see, the graves are green ; 

It is light ; let's go 
Where our loved ones rest 

In hope below : 

Christ is risen. 

All is fresh and new, 

Full of spring and light ; 
Wintry heart, why wearest the hue 

Of sleep and night ? 

Christ is risen. 

Leave thy cares beneath, 

Leave thy worldly love ; 
Begin the better life 

With God above : 

Christ is risen. 



A PRAYER FOR A SICK PERSON, WHEN THERE 
APPEARETH SMALL HOPE OF RECOVERY. 

@ Jfatljer of mercies, anb <&ob of all comfort, 
our onlg fyelp in time of neeb ; Wit flg unto K\)tz 
for succour in behalf of t!)is 2TI)g sernant, l)ere 
Igtng unber 2H)g Ijanb in great weakness of bobg. 
|Look graciouslg upon I)im, @ |Lorb ; anb tfye more 
t\)z outmarb man becaget!), strengthen l)im, me 
beseecl) ®ljee, so mucl) tl)e more continually mit!) 
gHjg grace anb Ijolg Spirit in tlje inner man. 
C5tr»e \}im unfeigneb repentance for all tfye errors 
of \)i& life pasit, anb stebfast faitl) in Sl)g $on 
f esus ; tl)at I)is sins mag be bone atoag bg gfl}g 
mercg, anb I)is parbon sealeb in !)eat>en, before fye 
go fyence, anb be no more seen* Wit know, @ 
|Lorb, tl)at tl)ere is no morb impossible mitl) 5tl)ee ; 
anb ttyat, if Jftljou milt, Sfyou canst etien get 
raise I)im up, anb grant l)im a long continuance 
amongst us : f|et, forasmuc!) as in all appearance 
tl)e time of I)is bissolution brametl) near, so fit anb 
prepare I)im, me beseecl) SI)ee, against tlje Ijour of 
beat!), tl)at after I)is beparture I)ence in peace, anb 
in SI)g favour, Ijis soul mag be recehnb into 
5H)ine everlasting kingbom, tfyrougl) tVje merits 
anb mebiation of |esus Christ, ©fyine onlg ^on, 
our |Dorb anb Saviour. |tmen. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 255 



Jatfjer of mercies, anU @tis of all comfort, our onlg 
Jjelp in time of rtrrtr ; 

J. 6\ Monsell 

WHEN friend from friend is parting, 
And in each speaking eye 
The silent tears are starting, 

To tell what words deny ; 
How could we bear the heavy load 

Of such heart-agony, 
Could we not cast it all, our God, 

Our gracious God, on Thee? 
And feel that Thou kind watch wilt keep 

When we are far away ; 
That Thou wilt soothe us when we weep, 

And hear us when we pray. 

Yet oft these hearts will whisper, 

That better 'twould betide, 
If we were near the friends we love, 

And watching by their side : 
But sure Thou'lt love them dearer. Lord, 

For trusting Thee alone ; 
And sure Thou wilt draw nearer, Lord, 

The further we are gone. 
Then why be sad ? since Thou wilt keep 

Watch o'er them day by day : 
Since Thou wilt soothe them when they weep. 

And hear us when we pray. 



256 HYMNS A ND POEMS 

O for that bright and happy land, 

Where, far amidst the blest, 
" The wicked cease from troubling, and 

The weary are at rest ;" 
Where friends are never parted, 

Once met around Thy throne ; 
And none are broken-hearted, 

Since all, with Thee, are one ! 
Yet O, till then, watch o'er us keep, 

While far from Thee away ; 
And soothe us, Lord, oft as we weep, 

And hear us when we pray. 



Wfyz more tfte otttfoartr matt Hecagetf;, strengthen fjtm, foe 
beseeclj tEfjee, so mmfj tfje more continually foitfj &Jjjj fl^" 
anti fjolg spirit in tfte inner man* 

From Sintravt. 

WHEN death is coming near, 
When thy heart shrinks in fear, 

And thy limbs fail ; 
Then raise thy hands and pray 
To Him who smooths thy way 

Through the dark vale. 
Seest thou the eastern dawn ? 
Hear'st thou in the red morn 

The angels' song ? 
O lift thy drooping head, 
Thou who in gloom and dread 

Hast lain so long. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 2$J 

Death comes to set thee free, 
O meet him cheerily 

As thy true friend, 
And all thy fears shall cease, 
And in eternal peace, 

Thy penance end. 



&fje more tfje oxttfoarfc man taajjetfjr, strengthen Jjtm, foe 
beseecfj Gffjee, so mxtcf; tfje more continually foitfj STfts grace 
an& Jjolg spirit in tfje inner man* 

H. F. Lyte. 

ABIDE with me ! Fast falls the eventide ; 
The darkness thickens ; Lord, with me abide. 
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
Help of the helpless, O abide with me ! 

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ; 
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away : 
Change and decay in all around I see ; 
O Thou, who changest not, abide with me ! 

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word, 
But as Thou dwelt'st with Thy disciples, Lord, 
Familiar, condescending, patient, free, 
Come, not to sojourn, but abide, with me. 

Come, not in terrors, as the King of kings ; 
But kind and good, with healing in Thy wings, 



2^8 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea, 
Come, Friend of sinners, and thus bide with me. 

Thou on my head in early youth didst smile, 
And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile, 
Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee, 
On to the close, O Lord, abide with me ! 

I need Thy presence every passing hour : 
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power ? 
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be ? 
Through cloud, and sunshine, O, abide with me ! 

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless, 
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness : 
Where is death's sting ? where, grave, thy victory ? 
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me. 

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes ; 
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies ! 
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows 1 

flee! 
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me. 

1 i Cant. ii. 17. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 259 



GHje more tfje outfoarti man tiecagetfj, strengthen Jjim, iae 
bescerifj Wqn, so mucfj tfje more continually foitfj Wq& grace 
ant! Jjolg spirit in tfje inner man* 

Bishop Jebb. 

OTHOU, whose all-enlivening ray 
Can turn my darkness into day, 
Disperse, great God, my mental gloom, 
And with Thyself my soul illume. 
Tho' gathering sorrows swell my breast, 
Speak but the word — and peace and rest 
Shall set my troubled spirit free, 
In sweet communion, Lord, with Thee. 
What tho' in this heart-searching hour, 
Thou dim'st my intellectual power ; 
The gracious discipline I own, 
And wisdom seek at Thy blest throne ; 
A wisdom not of earthly mould, 
Not such as learned volumes hold, 
Not selfish, arrogant, and vain, 
That chills the heart and fires the brain : 
But, Father of eternal light, 
In fixt and changeless glory bright, 
I seek the wisdom from above, 
Pure, peaceful, gentle, fervent love. 
Let love divine my bosom sway, 
And then my darkness will be day ; 
No doubts, no fears, shall heave my breast, 
For God Himself will be my rest. 



260 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Wtjt more tfje otttfoartr matt trecaget^, strengthen Jjim, bje 
taeecfj &fjee, so mucfj tfje more continually foitj) &ty£J grace 
antr fjolg spirit in tfje inner man* 

PAIN. 

From " 7^ ZW* 0# M* Cross." 

JESUS, Saviour, sympathize 
With Thy servant's agonies ; 
In Thy life-time Thou hast known 
Racking pains that made Thee moan — 
Pain of body, grief of mind, 
Shame, and suffering, combined. 

With Thy sanctifying hand 
Touch me gently, and command 
Some soft drops of dewy balm, 
To be shed with potent charm ; 
Comfort was to Thee imparted, 
Comfort Thou the broken-hearted. 

Pain ! what power within thee lies, 
Mystery of mysteries ; 
That the Holy and the Just, 
Even Christ our Saviour must, 
Ere He gain full power to bless, 
Taste thee in thy bitterness ? 

Not alone the token thou, 
Of an angry Father's brow : 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 26 1 

Rather of His willingness, 
To renew, receive, and bless ; 
Welcome then be thou to me, 
In thy sharpest agony. 

Only in that solemn hour, 
Let me feel, O God of power, 
That Thy gentle hand alone, 
Gives the pain that makes me moan ; 
High experience let me gain, 
Fortitude in suffering pain. 



<£fte fjtm ♦ ♦ stetfet fattfr in Wc& Son $zzm ; that fffe 
sins mag bz tome afoas bg EJjg mrog, attfc fjtjs partion sealetf 
in Jjeafren, before ije go fjettce, 

WRITTEN AT THE HOLY SEPULCHRE. 

G. Sandys. 

SAVIOUR of Mankind, Man, Emmanuel ! 
Who sinless died for sin ; who vanquish'd hell ' 
The first fruits of the grave : whose life did give 
Light to our darkness ; in whose death we live : — 
O strengthen Thou my faith, convert my will, 
That mine may Thine obey ; protect me still, 
So that the latter death may not devour 
My soul, seal'd with Thy seal. — So, in that hour, 



262 HYMNS A ND POEMS 

When Thou (whose body sanctified this tomb) 
Unjustly judged, — a glorious Judge shall come 
To judge the world with justice, by that sign 
I may be known, and entertained for Thine. 



M &f)ou fotlt, &fjou canst get raise f)im up, antf pant 
ijtm a longer continuance amongst us : 

THE BORDER-LAND.S. 

From " The Dove on the Crrs?" 

FATHER, into Thy loving hands, 
My feeble spirit I commit, 
While wandering in these Border-Lands 
Until Thy voice shall summon it. 

Father, I would not dare to choose 

A longer life, an earlier death ; 
I know not what my soul might lose 

By shortened or protracted breath. 

These Border-Lands are calm and still, 
And solemn are their silent shades ; 

And my heart welcomes them, until 
The light of life's long evening fades. 

I heard them spoken of with dread, 

As fearful and unquiet places ; 
Shades, where the living and the dead 

Look sadly in each other's faces. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 263 

But since Thy hand hath led me here, 
And I have seen the Border-Land ; 

Seen the dark river flowing near, 
Stood on its brink, as now I stand, 

There has been nothing to alarm 

My trembling soul ; how could I fear 

While thus encircled with Thine arm ? 
I never felt Thee half so near. 

What should appal me in a place, 
That brings me hourly nearer Thee ? 

When I may almost see Thy face — 
Surely 'tis here my soul would be. 

They say the waves are dark and deep, 
That faith has perished in the river ; 

They speak of death with fear, and weep. 
Shall my soul perish ? Never, never. 

I know that Thou wilt never leave 
The soul that trembles while it clings 

To Thee : I know Thou wilt achieve 
Its passage on Thine outspread wings. 

And since I first was brought so near 
The stream that flows to the Dead Sea, 

I think that it has grown more clear 
And shallow than it used to be. 
u 



264 HYMNS AND POEMS 

I cannot see the golden gate 
Unfolding yet to welcome me ; 

I cannot yet anticipate 

The joy of heaven's jubilee. 

But I will calmly watch and pray, 
Until I hear my Saviour's voice, 

Calling my happy soul away 
To see His glory, and rejoice. 



jForasmttcf; as m all appearance tfje time of fjts dissolution 
fcrafoctfj near, so fit antr prepare fjtm, foe foeseeclj Efjee, against 
tfje Ijour of tieatfj, 

THE SECOND DAY OF CREATION. 

T. Whytehead. 



HP 1 



X HIS world I deem 
But a beautiful dream 
Of shadows that are not what they seem ; 
Where visions rise, 
Giving dim surmise 
Of the things that shall meet our waking eyes. 

Arm of the Lord ! 

Creating Word ! 
Whose glory the silent skies record, 

Where stands Thy name 

In scrolls of flame, 
On the firmament's high-shadowing frame ! 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 265 

I gaze o'erhead, 

Where Thy hand hath spread 
For the waters of Heaven that crystal bed, 

And stored the dew 

In its deeps of blue, 
Which the fires of the sun come tempered through. 

Soft they shine 

Through that pure shrine, 
As beneath the veil of Thy flesh divine 

Beams forth the light, 

That were else too bright 
For the feebleness of a sinner's sight. 

And such I deem 

This world will seem 
When we waken from life's mysterious dream, 

And burst the shell 

Where our spirits dwell 
In their wondrous ante-natal cell. 

I gaze aloof 

On the tissued roof, 
Where time and space are the warp and woof, 

Which the King of kings 

As a curtain flings 
O'er the dreadfulness of eternal things — 

A tapestried tent, 
To shade us meant 
From the bare everlasting firmament ; 



266 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Where the blaze of the skies. 
Comes soft to our eyes 
Through a veil of mystical imageries. 

But could I see, 

As in truth they be, 
The glories of Heaven that encompass me, 

I should lightly hold 

The tissued fold 
Of that marvellous curtain of blue and gold. 

Soon the whole, 

Like a parched scroll, 
Shall before my amazed sight upioll, 

And without a screen, 

At one burst be seen, 
The Presence wherein I have ever been. 

O ! who shall bear 

The blinding glare 
Of the Majesty that shall meet us there? 

What eye may gaze 

On the unveil'd blaze 
Of the light-girdled throne of the Ancient of days ? 

Christ us aid ! 

Himself be our shade, 
That in that dread day we be not dismay'd. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 267 



JForasmurfj as to all appearance tfye time of Jjfe fctssolttttott 
tirafortfj near, 

CONSUMPTION. 

From " The Dove on tJte Cross." 

JESUS ! my breath is failing — lead me on 
Softly and gently, as my strength can bear ; 
Draw me to Thee in closer union, 
And for eternal life Thy child prepare. 
Let Thy love shine upon my soul, and chase 
This mistiness and darkness quite away, 
Till Faith discerns her holy resting-place 
Distinctly, in the perfect light of day. 
Robe me in snowy raiment ; store my heart 
With precious jewels from Thy treasury. 
This world is not my rest, let me depart 
And let my ransomed soul return to Thee. 
Well may I trust Thee, who Thyself hast given 
To gain for me the peace and bliss of heaven. 



M attfc prepare fjtm, foe teeecfj EJjee, against tfje fytrnx of 
fceatfj, 

THE DAY OF DEATH. 

R. C. Trench. 

THOU inevitable day, 
When a voice to me shall say — 
" Thou must rise and come away ; 



268 HYMNS AND POEMS 

"All thine other journeys past, 
Gird thee, and make ready fast 
For thy longest and thy last " — 

Day deep-hidden from our sight 

In impenetrable night, 

Who may guess of thee aright ? 

Art thou distant, art thou near ? 
Wilt thou seem more dark or clear? 
Day with more of hope or fear ? 

Wilt thou come, not seen before 
Thou art standing at the door, 
Saying — Light and life are o'er ? 

Or with such a gradual pace, 
As shall leave me largest space 
To regard thee face to face ? 

Shall I lay my drooping head 

On some loved lap ; round my bed 

Prayer be made, and tears be shed ? 

Or at distance from mine own, 
Name and kin alike unknown, 
Make my solitary moan ? 

Will there yet be things to leave, 
Hearts to which this heart must cleave, 
From which, parting, it must grieve ; 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 269 

Or shall life's best ties be o'er, 
And all loved things gone before 
To that other happier shore ? 

Shall I gently fall on sleep, 
Death, like slumber, o'er me creep, 
Like a slumber sweet and deep ? 

Or the soul long strive in vain 
To get free, with toil and pain, 
From its half-divided chain ? 

Little skills it where or how, 
If thou comest then or now, 
With a smooth or angry brow ; 

Come thou must, and we must die — 
Jesus, Saviour, stand Thou by, 
When that last sleep seals our eye. 



£fjat after fjts departure fjerae in peace, atft in {JTfjrj fafaror, 
ijis soul mag fce recetoefc into Wfinz everlasting fcingtom. 

THE PRAYER. 

Jeremy Taylor. 

MY soul doth pant towards Thee, 
My God ! source of eternal life ! 
Flesh fights with me ; 
O end the strife, 
And part us, that in peace I may 

Unclay 
My wearied spirit, and take 
My flight to Thy eternal spring, 



270 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Where for His sake, 
Who is my King, 
I may wash all my tears away, 
That day. — 

Thou conqueror of death, 
Glorious triumpher o'er the grave, 

Whose holy breath 

Was spent to save 
Lost mankind, make me to be stiled 

Thy child ; 

And take me when I die, 
And go unto my dust ; my soul, 

Above the sky, 

With saints enrol : 
That in Thy arms for ever I 

May lie. 

Amen. 



3Tf}at after fyts trepartttre fyertce in peace, attti in tEfjfj fabour, 
fjis soul mag foe reccfteti into Wfyixiz eberlastmg fttitgtomu 

" SOON— AND FOR EVER." 

" HER DYING WORDS TO HER HUSBAND WERE : ' SOON — AND 
FOR EVER.' " — MANUSCRIPT LETTER. 

Rev. J. S. Monsell. 

" QOON— and for ever!" 
k3 Such promise our trust, 

Though ashes to ashes, 
And dust unto dust ; 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 27 I 

Soon — and for ever 

Our union shall be 
Made perfect, our glorious 

Redeemer, in Thee. 
When the sins and the sorrows 

Of time shall be o'er; 
Its pangs and its partings 

Remembered no more ; 
When life cannot fail, 

And when death cannot sever, 
Christians with Christ shall be 

Soon — and for ever. 

Soon — and for ever 

The breaking of day 
Shall drive all the night clouds 

Of sorrow away. 
Soon — and for ever 

We'll see as we're seen, 
And learn the deep meaning 

Of things that have been. 
When fightings, without us, 

And fears from within, 
Shall weary no more 

In the warfare of sin. 
Where tears, and where fears, 

And where death shall be — never, 
Christians with Christ shall be 

Soon — and for ever. 

Soon — and for ever 

The work shall be done, 



272 HYMNS A ND POEMS 

The warfare accomplished, 

The victory won. 
Soon — and for ever 

The soldier lay down 
His sword for a harp, 

And his cross for a crown. 
Then droop not in sorrow, 

Despond not in fear, 
A glorious to-morrow 

Is brightening and near ; 
When — blessed reward 

Of each faithful endeavour, 
Christians with Christ shall be 

Soon — and for ever. 



&o fit attii prepare f)tm ♦ . ♦ tfjat after fjts departure fjence 
in peace, antr in Wq& fafoour, fjis soul mas be rece&efc into 
Wqxw everlasting fungtiottu 

" The Hours ■" 

OGOD, unchangeable and true, 
Of all the life and power, 
Dispensing light in silence through 
Every successive hour. 

Lord, brighten our declining day, 

That it may never wane, 
Till death, when all things else decay, 

Brings back the morn again. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 273 

This grace on Thy redeemed confer, 

Father, coequal Son, 
And Holy Ghost the Comforter ; 

Eternal Three in One. 



Efjat after fjis departure fjence in peace, antr in Wqq fafrour, 
fjis soul mag fte receibefc into tZTfjme everlasting ftingtrom, 
tijrougfj tlje merits anti mediation of Jesus (Rtyxtet Efjine onlg 
•Son, our 2LortJ anti &abiour : 

HEAVEN. 

Jeremy Taylor. 

O BEAUTEOUS God! uncircumscribed trea- 
sure 
Of an eternal pleasure ! 

Thy throne is seated far 

Above the highest star ; 
Where Thou prepar'st a glorious place 
Within the brightness of Thy face, 

For every spirit 

To inherit, 

That builds his hopes upon Thy merit, 
And loves Thee with a holy charity. 

What ravished heart, seraphic tongues, or eyes, 
Clear as the morning's rise, 

Can speak, or think, or see 

That bright eternity ? 



2 74 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Where the great King's transparent throne 
Is of an entire jasper stone; 

There the eye 

O' the crysolite, 

And a sky 

Of diamonds, rubies, chrysoprase, 
And, above all, Thy Holy Face 
Makes an eternal clarity. 

When Thou Thy jewels up dost bind — that day 
Remember us, we pray. 

That where the beryl lies, 

And the crystal 'bove the skies, 
There Thou may'st appoint us place 
Within the brightness of Thy face ; 

And our soul, 

In the scroll 
Of life and blissfulness enrol, 
That we may praise Thee to eternity. 

Hallelujah. 



Wfrat after Jjts fcepartnre tyntz in peace, attir in tEJfg fabour, 
ijis soul mag it rece&eti into Efjtne everlasting fttngtfom* 

1 ' Hickes 1 Devotions. " 



DEAR Jesu ! When, when will it be 
That I no more shall break with Thee ? 
When will this war of passions cease, 
And let my soul enjoy Thy peace? 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 2J$ 



II. 

Here I repent, and sin again ; 
Now I revive, and now am slain : 
Slain with the same unhappy dart, 
Which, O ! too often wounds my heart. 

in. 

When, dearest Lord, when shall I be 
A garden seal'd to all but Thee ? 
No more expos'd, no more undone ; 
But live, and grow to Thee alone ? 

IV. 

'Tis not, alas ! on this low earth 
That such pure flowers can find a birth : 
Only they spring above the skies, 
Where none can live till here he dies. 

v. 
Then let me die, that I may go, 
And dwell where those bright lilies grov: ! 
Where those blest plants of glory rise, 
And make a safer paradise. 

VI. 

No dangerous fruit, no tempting Eve : 
No crafty serpent to deceive ; 
But we like gods indeed shall be ; — 
Oh ! let me die that life to see. 

VII. 

Thus says my song : but does my heart 
Join with the words, and sing its part ? 



276 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Am I so thorough wise to choose 
The other world, and this refuse ? 

VIII. 

Why should I not ? What do I find 

That fully here contents my mind ? 

What is this meat, and drink, and sleep, 

That such poor things from heaven should keep ? 

IX. 

What is this honour, or great place, 
Or bag of money, or fair face ? 
What's all the world, that thus we should 
Still long to dwell with flesh and blood ? 

x. 

Fear not, my soul ; stand to thy word, 
Which thou hast sung to thy dear Lord ; 
Let but thy love be firm and true, 
And with more heat thy wish renew. 

XL 

Oh may this dying life make haste 
To die into true life at last ; 
No hope have I to live before, 
But then to live, and die no more. 

XII. 

Great, ever-living God, to Thee, 
In essence one, in Persons three ; 
May all Thy works their tribute bring, 
And every age Thy glory sing. 

Amen. 



A COMMENDATORY PRAYER FOR A SICK PER- 
SON AT THE POINT OF DEPARTURE. 

@ $tlmigljtg (!lob, mitlj mljom bo Uue tlje spirits 
of just men mabe perfect, after tljeg are beliuereb 
from tl)eir eartljlg prisons ; Wit ljumbig commenb 
tl)e soul of tljis Sftjg seruant, ottr bear brother, into 
Sljg Ijanbs, as into tlje Ijanbs of a faithful (Creator, 
anb most merciful jgauiour ; most ljumbig beseech- 
ing Sljee, tljat it mag be precious in Styg Sigljt 
SStasl) it, toe prag STtjee, in tlje bloob of tl)at imma- 
culate |Damb, tljat mas Slain to take atoag tlje sins 
of tlje toorlb ; tljat mljatsoeuer befrtements it mag 
Ijaue contracteb in tlje mibst of tljis miserable anb 
naugljtg morlb, throng!) tlje lusts of tlje fleslj, or 
tlje miles of JSatan, being purgeb anb bone atoag, 
it mag be presenteb pure anb toitljout spot before 
Sljee. Jlnb teaclj us mljo sunrise, in tljis anb 
otljer like bailg spectacles of mortalitg, to see Ijom 
frail anb uncertain our omn conbition is ; anb so 
to number our bags, tljat me mag seriouslg applg 
our Ijearts to tljat Ijolg anb Ijeauenlg toisbom, 
toljilst me liue here, mljiclj mag in tlje zni bring 
us to life euerlasting, tljrouglj tlje merits of |esus 
(florist Sljine onlg $on our |Lorb» Jlmen, 



278 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Sllttttgfjtg (Srotf, battfy fofjom trn litre tfjre spirits of just 
men ma&e (refect, after t^eg are fceittaeti from tfyeir eartfylg 
prisons ; 

Habington. 

YOU spirits, that have thrown away 
That envious weight of clay, 
Which your celestial flight denyed ; 
Who by your glorious troopes supply 

The winged hierarchie, 
So broken in the angells' pride. 

O you, whom your Creator's sight 

Inebriates with delight ; 
Sing forth the triumphs of His name, 
All you enamored soules ; agree 

In a loud symphonie, 
To give expression to your flame. 

To Him His owne works relate, 

Who daigned to elevate 
You 'bove the frailtie of your birth ; 
Where you stand safe from that rude warre 

With which we troubled are 
By the rebellion of our earth. 

While a corrupted air beneath 
Here in this world we breathe. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 279 

Each hour some passion us assailes : 
Now lust casts wild fire in the blood 

Or, that it may seeme good, 
Itselfe in wit or beauty vailes. 

Then envie circles us with hate, 

And layes a siege so streight, 
No heavenly succour enters in : 
But, if revenge admittance fmde, 

For ever hath the mind 
Made forfeit of itselfe to sinne. 

Assaulted thus, how dare we raise 

Our minds to thinke His praise, 
Who is eternall and immense ? 
How dare we force our feeble wit 

To speak Him infinite, 
So farre above the search of sence ? 

O you who are immaculate, 

His name may celebrate 
In your soules' bright expansion : 
You whom your vertues did unite 

To His perpetual light, 
That even with Him you now shine one. 

While we, who t'earth contract our hearts, 

And only studie arts 
To shorten the sad length of time : 
In place of joyes, bring humble feares ; 

For hymnes, repentant teares ; 
And a new sigh for every crime. 
x 



280 HYMNS AND POEMS 



<® &ImigJ}tg <£otr, irrttfr fofjom fco Itbe tfje spirits of jttst 
men ma&e perfect, after tfjeg are fcelibereti from tfjeir cartijlg 
prisons ; 

DESIRE OF HEAVEN. 



o 



Ascribed to Francis Taylor. 

LONG to be installed in the throne 
Of endless glory ; let thy spirit groan 
After a full and plenary possession 
Of blessedness transcending all expression. 
Be like the bird of Paradise, which (they say) 
Being entangled in the snare, straightway 
Begins to strive, and never giveth o'er 
Till she enjoy her freedom as before. 
Sing Simeon's swan-like song at his decease — 
" Lord, let Thy servant now depart in peace." 
Welcome the messenger of death, which brings 
Most joyful tidings from the King of kings ; 
Which tells the saints of an approaching crown 
Of matchless glory, honour, and renown. 
Death is the chariot, which without delay, 
Saints to their Father's house bears swift away. 
Death is, to humble penitents, no less 
Than a short entrance into happiness. 
Death is the saints' ascension, day of bliss, 
Their marriage-day with Jesus Christ it is. 
Death is the charter of their liberty, 
The period of their pain and misery : 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 28l 

Death gives them an immunity from sin, 

And frees them from the fears they once were in. 

Death is the bane of woe, the grave of vice, 

The portal opening into Paradise ; 

Where grace, that in the bud was here below, 

Into the flower of glory straight shall blow ; 

Where saints' immortal souls, made more divine, 

Shall with the diamonds of perfection shine ; 

Where they, to their unspeakable delight, 

Of God Himself shall have a perfect sight ; 

Where, in their wills, there shall a likeness be 

To God, in holiness and purity ; 

Where, having shot the gulf of death, they shall 

Wear on their heads a crown imperial ; 

Where the rich caskets of their souls shall be 

O'erlaid with glory's best embroidery ; 

Where no contaminating tincture e'er 

Shall their unspotted purity besmear ; 

Where God Himself unto the saints shall be 

A spring of life to perpetuity ; 

Where they shall in the fragrant bosom lie 

Of their Beloved to eternity ; 

Where the enamel of their glory shall 

Never wear off, nor soiled be at all ; 

Where they a glorious kingdom shall receive, 

Of which no power on earth can them bereave : 

Where they their safety shall behold from all 

Insulting foes, and their eternal thrall ; 

Where they shall be partakers of that joy 

Which will them satisfy, but never cloy ; 



282 HYMNS AND POEMS 

Where Baca unto Beracha 1 shall be 

Converted, mourning into melody — 

Where brinish tears shall never dim their eyes, 

Nor shall their ears be frighted more with cries ; 

Where sorrows ne'er shall damp their hearts again, 

Nor shall their senses be disturb'd with pain ; 

Where length of years, without the least decay 

Of strength, they shall enjoy ; yea, where for aye 

They shall be blessed with the love of many, 

And need not fear the jealousy of any ; 

Where for their labour a " quietus est" 

Each saint shall have, and ever be at rest ; 

Where life and immortality they shall 

Have, for their death in Christ, and Christ for all. 



^Imtgfjtg ffiotr, foitfj fofjom tro Itbe tfje spirits of just 
men matie perfect, after tfjeg are fcelifrereti from tfjeir eartfjlg 
prisons ; 

SEVENTH DAY OF CREATION. 

(PART.) 



T. Whytehead. 



SABBATH of the saints of old, 
Day of mysteries manifold, 
By the great Creator blest, 
Type of His eternal rest ; 



i Baca — weeping ; Beracha — blessing. See Psalm Ixxxiv. 6, and 2 
Chron. xx. 26. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 283 

I with thoughts of Thee would seek 
To sanctify the closing week. 

Resting from His work, the Lord 
Spake to-day the hallowing word : 
And, His wondrous labours done, 
Now the everlasting Son 
Gave to heaven and earth the sign 
Of a wonder more divine : 

Resting from His work, to-day 
In the tomb the Saviour lay, 
His sacred form from head to feet 
Swathed in the winding-sheet, 
Lying in the rock alone, 
Hid beneath the sealed stone. 

All the seventh day long, I ween, 
Mournful watch'd the Magdalene, 
Rising early, resting late, 
By the sepulchre to wait, 
In the holy garden glade 
Where her buried Lord was laid. 

So as closed the Sabbath night 
In Goshen watched the Israelite, 
Staff in hand, in pilgrim guise, 
By the slaughtered sacrifice, 
Waiting till the midnight cry 
Signal gave that God was nigh : 



284 HYMNS AND POEMS 

So with Thee till life shall end, 
I would solemn vigil spend ; 
Let me hew Thee, Lord, a shrine, 
In this rocky heart of mine, 
Where in pure embalmed cell, 
None but Thou mayst ever dwell. 

Myrrh and spices I will bring, 
My poor affection's offering, 
Close the door from sight and sound 
Of the busy world around, 
And in patient watch remain 
Till my Lord appear again. 

Then, the new creation done, 
Shall be Thy endless rest begun : 
Jesu, keep me safe from sin, 
That I with them may enter in, 
And danger past, and toil at end, 
To Thy resting-place ascend. 



Wit fjumblg comment tfje soul of tfjts Wy& serbant, our 
tiear brother, into Efjs fjanta, 

DUST TO DUST. 

R. C. Trench. 

OH ! blessing, wearing semblance of a curse, 
We fear thee, thou stern sentence — yet to be 
Linked to immortal bodies, were far worse 
Than thus to be set free. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 285 

For mingling with the life-blood, through each vein 

The venom of the Serpent's bite has run, 
And only thus might be expelled again — 
Thus only health be won. 

Shall we not then a gracious sentence own, 

Now since the leprosy has fretted through 
The entire house, that Thou wilt take it down, 
And build it all anew ? 

Build it this time (since Thou wilt build again,) 

An holy house where righteousness may dwell ; 
And we, though in the unbuilding there be pain, 
Will still affirm,— 'Tis well. 



Wit Jjumblg comment! tfje soul of tfjts Wfyg seruant, our 
tear orotfjer, into Efjg Jjantis, as into tfje ijantis of a faithful 
Creator* 

DYING TO THE WORLD. 

Bishop Ken. 

MY soul lives but a stranger here, 
My country is the heavenly sphere : 
While God here wills my stay, 
His grace my powers shall sway. 
Death ! when for me you are designed, 
But little work in me you'll find. 



25b HYMNS AND POEMS 

My all is God's possession grown, 

I nothing keep to call my own : 

If any self you see 

Remaining still in me, 

O ! that should long ago have died, 

Had I the lurking ill descried. 

Perhaps you'll at my body aim — 
But that's devoted to God's name ; 
God there is pleased to build 
A temple, with God filled ; 
Dare you to ruin that design, 
Which temple is of Godhead trine ? 

By God's permission yet you may 

Dissolve this house built up of clay — 

In ruin when it lies, 

It glorious shall arise ; 

And rise to a much nobler height, 

Than the first temple, much more bright. 

Should you my heaven-born soul attempt- 

That from your terrors lives exempt ; 

You ne'er, with all your skill, 

Could souls immortal kill : 

You need not me and world divide, 

I long ago the world denied. 

I have prevented all your force, 

Which from my friends might me divorce- 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 287 

To friends, though truly dear, 
My heart dares not adhere : 
No perfect friend but God I know, 
For God I all the rest forego. 

Should you invade me, armed with pain, 
And make me numerous deaths sustain, 
My will, to God resigned, 
Sweet ease in God will find ; 
God's love will all my pains endear, 
With joy my dissolution's near. 

Death ! when you shall approach my head, 

You'll nothing see but what is dead ; 

Yet do not me forsake, 

Care of my body take ; 

Lay me with gentle hand asleep — 

God in the grave my dust will keep. 



: ftnmblg comment! tfje soul of tfjfe Wq& snftant , ♦ . into 
€3)2 fjantis, 

LITANY TO THE HOLY SPIRIT. 



Hcrrick. 



IN the hour of my distress, 
When temptations me oppress, 
And when I my sins confess, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 



288 HYMNS AND POEMS 

When I lie within my bed, 
Sick in heart, and sick in head, 
And with doubts disquieted, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

And when the house doth sigh and weep, 
And the world is drowned in sleep, 
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

When the passing bell doth toll, 
And the furies in a shoal 
Come to fright my parting soul, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

When the priest his last has prayed, 
And I nod to what is said, 
'Cause my speech is now decayed, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

When God knows I'm tossed about, 
Either with despair or doubt, 
Yet before the glass be out, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

When the tapers now burn blue, 
And the comforters are few, 
And that number more than true, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 289 

When the tempter me pursueth 
With the sins of all my youth, 
And half damns me with untruth, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

When the flames and hellish cries 
Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes, 
And all terrors me surprise, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

When the judgment is revealed, 
And that opened which was sealed, 
When to Thee I have appealed, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 



WLi fjttmftlg commmti tfje soul of tfjts Wq& serbant ♦ ♦ . into 
&f}2 fjantis, as into tije fjantis of a fattfjful Creator, 

R. C. Trench. 

WHEN hearts are full of yearning tenderness 
For the loved absent whom we cannot 
reach 
By deed or token, gesture or kind speech — 
The spirit's true affection to express ; 
When hearts are full of innermost distress, 
And we are doomed to stand inactive by, 
Watching the soul's or body's agony, 
Which human effort helps not to make less — 
Then, like a cup, capacious to contain 



290 HYMNS AND POEMS 

The overflowings of the heart, is prayer : 
The longing of the soul is satisfied, 
The keenest darts of anguish blunted are ; 
And though we cannot cease to yearn or grieve, 
Yet we have learned in patience to abide. 



GTJjat fofjatsoefrer MIements it mag fyabe contracts* . . . 
being putgetf an* iione afoag, it mag fce presented pure an* 
fottfjout spot before Ejjee, 

OF DIVINE LOVE. 

Waller. 

IMPENDENT death, and guilt that threatens 
hell, 
Are dreadful guests, which here with mortals dwell ; 
And a vexed conscience, mingling with their joy 
Thoughts of despair, does their whole life annoy ; 
But love appearing, all those terrors fly ; 
We live contented, and contented die. 
They in whose breast this sacred love has place, 
Death, as a passage to their joy, embrace. 
Clouds and thick vapours, which obscure the day, 
The sun's victorious beams may chase away : 
Those which our life corrupt and darken, love 
(The nobler star !) must from the soul remove. 
Spots are observed in that which bounds the year, 
This brighter sun moves in a boundless sphere ; 
Of Heaven the joy, the glory, and the light ; 
Shines among angels, and admits no night. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 29 1 



tlTfjat fofjatsoeber defilements it mag fjabe contracted in tfje 
mitist of trjis miserable anti naugrjtjj toorlti, trjrottgf) tfje lusts 
of tfje flesfj, or tlje Mcs of &atan, being purgcti anti tione 
atoajj, it mag be presented pure anti fcritfjout spot before Wqzi* 

COLOSSIANS I. 27. 
* E.M. 

JESUS, I would be Thine alone, 
My heart Thy sovereign sway to own, 
Each long-loved idol would dethrone, 
To live by faith on Thee. 

The spirit of the world is here, 
The watchful enemy is near, 
And human love and human fear 

Would tempt me far from Thee. 

My soul, too oft by cares opprest, 
Would scarce retain her heavenly guest, 
Yet, Saviour ! that Thou hast possest, 
Bind, closer bind, to Thee. 

Have I not heard Thy gracious voice — 
Learned in Thy promise to rejoice ? 
Then be it mine, that blessed choice, 
Through life to follow Thee ! 

Yet, O the moment of delight, 

When these low scenes of earth and night 

No longer intercept my sight, 

Or tempt my feet from Thee. 



292 HYMNS AND POEMS 

When, rising in divine array, 
No more a prisoner of clay, 
My soul her judge, without dismay, 

Shall meet, and reign with Thee. 



&tto tcacfy its fofjo suroibe, fit tips attti otfjer Itfte trails 
spectacles of mortality, to see Jjofo frail ano uncertain our obm 
contrition is ; 

Elegiac Poems. 

What pang is permanent with man ? From the highest, 
As from the meanest things of every day, 
He learns to wean himself : for the strong hours 
Conquer him. 

WHO that a watcher doth remain 
Beside a couch of mortal pain, 
Deems he can ever smile a^ain ? 



Or who that weeps beside a bier, 

Counts he has any more to fear 

From the world's flatteries, false and leer ? 

And yet anon, and he doth start 
At the light toys in which his heart 
Can now already claim its part. 

O hearts of ours, so weak and poor, 
That nothing there can long endure ! 
And so their hurts find shameful cure ; 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 293 

While every sadder, wiser thought, 
Each holier aim which sorrow brought, 
Fades quite away and comes to nought. 

Thou, who dost our weakness know, 
Watch for us, that the strong hours so 
Not wean us from our wholesome woe. 

Grant Thou, that we may long retain 
The wholesome memories of pain, 
Nor wish to lose them soon again. 



GTearfj us ♦ ♦ to m fjofo frail anfc uncertain our ofon 
condition is ; 

A PASSAGE FROM ST. AUGUSTIN. 

R. C. Trench. 

WERT thou a wanderer on a foreign strand, 
Who yet could'st only in thy native land 
Find peace, or joy, or any blessed thing — 
And thy long woes unto an end to bring, 
Should'st there at length determine to return, 
Since in all other places doomed to mourn — 
But, having need of carriages for this, 
To bring thee to thy country and true bliss, 
What if the pleasant motion which they made, 
With the fair prospects on each side displayed, 
Should so attract thee, thou at last wert fain 
The things for use lent only, to retain ; 



294 HYMNS AND POEMS 

So taken with their passing, slight delight, 
That from thy country alienated quite, 
And its true joys whereto thou first didst tend, 
And loathing to approach thy journey's end, 
Thou should'st be now a pilgrim with the fear 
Lest thy long pilgrimage's close was near — 
If it were this way with thee, we might say, 
Thou didst man's life unto the life pourtray. 

GTearfj its fofjo surbibe, in tfjis anfc otfjer like tiatlg spec* 
tacks of mortality, to see fjroixr frail attti uncertain our ofon 
contrition is ; 

AUTUMNAL HYMN. 

H. F. Lyte. 

THE leaves around me falling 
Are preaching of decay ; 
The hollow winds are calling, 

" Come, pilgrim, come away!" 

The day, in night declining, 

Says, I must too decline : 

The year its life resigning — 

Its lot foreshadows mine. 

The light my path surrounding, 

The loves to which I cling, 
The hopes within me bounding, 

The joys that round me wing — 
All melt, like stars of even 

Before the morning's ray, 
Pass upward into Heaven, 

And chide at my delay. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 295 

The friends gone there before me 

Are calling from on high, 
And joyous angels o'er me 

Tempt sweetly to the sky. 
" Why wait," they say, " and wither, 

'Mid scenes of death and sin ? 

rise to glory hither, 
And find true life begin." 

1 hear the invitation, 

And fain would rise and come, — 
A sinner to salvation ; 

An exile to his home : 
But while I here must linger, 

Thus, thus, let all I see 
Point on, with faithful finger, 

To Heaven, O Lord, and Thee. 



&eacfy us fofjo surbfte, in tfyis antr otfjer like tiailg spectacles 
of mortality, to see Jjofo frail anti uncertain our ofou condition 
is; 

THE CHECK. 
(part. ) 

Henry VaugTian 

AS he, that in the midst of days expects 
The hideous night, 
Sleeps not, but shaking off sloth and neglects, 
Works with the sun, and sets 
Paying the day its debts ; 

Y 



296 HYMNS AND POEMS 

That for repose and darkness bound, he might 
Rest from the fears i' the night ; 

So should we too. All things teach us to die, 
And point us out the way ; 
While we passe by, 

And mind it not ; Play not away 
Thy glimpse of light. 



View thy forerunners, Creatures given to be 

Thy youth's companions 
Take their leave, and die ; birds, beasts, each tree, 

All that have growth or breath 

Have one large language — death ! 
O then play not ! but strive to Him who can 

Make these sad shades pure sun, 
Turning their mists to beams, their damps to day ; 

Whose power doth so excel) 
As to make clay 

A Spirit, and true glory dwell 
In dust and stones. 



Hark, how He doth invite thee ! with what voice 

Of love and sorrow 
He begs and calls ! O that in these thy days 

Thou knew'st but thy own good ! 

Shall not the cries of blood, 
Of God's own blood, awake thee? He bids beware 

Of drunk'ness, surfeits, care ; 
But thou sleepst on ; where's now thy Protestation, 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 297 

Thy Lines, thy Love ? Away ! 

Redeem the day ; 
The day that gives no observation 

Perhaps to-morrow. 



i teacfj tts frrijo snrbibe ♦ ♦ to see Jjofo frail attti uncertain 
our ofon contrition is ; 



T 



G. Wither. 

HE voice which I did more esteem 



Than music in her sweetest key ; 
Those eyes which unto me did seem 

More comfortable than the day; 
Those now by me, as they have been, 
Shall never more be heard or seen, 
But what I once enjoyed in them 
Shall seem hereafter as a dream. 

All earthly comforts vanish thus ; 

So little hold of them have we, 
That we from them, or they from us, 

May in a moment ravished be. 
Yet we are neither just nor wise 
If present mercies we despise ; 
Or mind not how there may be made 
A thankful use of what we had. 



298 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Sfatr teatfj tts fofo surbfoe ♦ ♦ to see Jjofo frail antf uncertain 
our ofon contrition is ; 



B 



(part. ) 

Moultrie. 

UT be this 



Even as it may; — from all that hath been 
lost, 
And all that yet remains, our hearts may learn 
Some profitable lessons. Upon earth 
Decay and renovation, in close track, 
Follow each other ; friendships wax and wane ; 
Old joys give place to new ones; and while thus 
Provision is still made for life's support 
And bountiful refreshment, — while the heart 
Is cheered' and strengthened for its daily task 
Of duty, by accessions many and rich 
Of ever-freshening solace, — still we learn 
That all is here unstable ; that, till death, 
We must not hope to lay our weary heads 
On the soft lap of permanent repose ; 
Nor find secure and never-failing rest 
For our foot's sole. Such comfort as Heaven gives 
Let us enjoy with thankfulness ; but still — 
Remembering that our home is not on earth, 
Nor earthy the affections and the joys 
Which must make glad that home, — with stedfast 

aim 
Pursue our heavenward path, from time to time 
Refreshed, in this world's wilderness, by springs 
Of worldly joyance, but still looking on, 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 299 

Beyond created things, to that full bliss 
Which the regenerate and triumphant soul, 
After its weary conflicts, by God's power, 
Through faith unto salvation safely kept, 
Shall, in His presence, endlessly enjoy. 



Gueacfj us irrfjo surb&e, in tjjfe antr otfjtr lifte trails spectacles 
of mortality, to sec fjofo frail antr uncertain our oxon contrition 
is; 

PASSING THROUGH THE NEW FOREST. 

AUTUMN SUNSET. 

Church Poetry. 

WHAT do they say — those forest trees ? 
Their leaves are shed ; 
Thousands and thousands by the breeze 

Lie scattered — dead ; 
And yet there is a sunny hue, 

A rich bright glow, 
Their summer freshness never knew, 
That now they show. 

And the bright sun — he soon will sink, 

His glories set, 
But see, while hovering on the brink, 

He's glowing yet ; 
And never in his noontide hour 

In summer skies, 
Beams forth such radiant, glorious power, 

As when he dies. 



300 HYMNS AND POEMS 

They tell me — those proud trees of earth — 

That sun of Heaven — 
This is not death ; another birth 

Will yet be given. 
'Tis therefore they exulting glow, 

Exulting shine ; 
They tell me as I gaze, to know 

Such fate is mine. 

But O ! how nobler, higher far, 

Our hope in dying, 
To rise where light and glory are, 

And death defying. 
Then never, never look upon 

That earth and sky, 
To sigh o'er dreams— of pleasures gone, 

Or hopes that die ; 
But think of the eternal morrow, 
That breaks upon the night of sorrow. 



&ppl2 our fjearte to tfjat ffolg attti Jjeafrmlg fcristfom, fofttlst 
foe Itbe fjere, fofjtcft mag in tfje mU bring us to Hit everlasting. 

TO GOD. 

IN HIS SICKNESS. 

Herrick. 

WHAT though my harp and viol be 
Both hung upon the willow-tree? 
What though my bed be now my grave, 
And for my house I darkness have ? 



FOR THE SICK AXD SUFFERING 

What though my healthful days are fled, 
And I lie numbered with the dead ? 
Yet I have hope, by Thy great power, 
To spring — though now a withered flower. 



Cfjat foe mag seruraslg appljr our fjearts to tfjat Jjalg attti 
fjeafrenlg foistiom, fofytlst foe litre fjere, fofjtcfj tnag in tfje entJ 
bring us to life everlasting. 

"MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND." 

A. L. IV. 

FATHER, I know that all my life 
Is portioned out for me, 
And the changes that will surely come, 

I do not fear to see ; 
But I ask Thee for a present mind 
Intent on pleasing Thee. 

I ask Thee for a thoughtful love, 
Through constant watching, wise 

To meet the glad with joyful smiles, 
And to wipe the weeping eyes ; 

And a heart at leisure from itself 
To soothe and sympathize. 

I would not have the restless will 

That hurries to and fro, 
Seeking for some great thing to do, 

Or secret thing to know ; 



302 HYMNS AND POEMS 

I would be treated as a child, 
And guided where I go. 

Wherever in the world I am, 

In whatsoe'er estate, 
I have a fellowship with hearts, 

To keep and cultivate ; 
And a work of lowly love to do 

For the Lord on whom I wait. 

So I ask Thee for the daily strength 
To none that ask denied, 

And a mind to blend with outward life, 
While keeping at Thy side ; 

Content to fill a little space, 
If Thou be glorified. 

And if some things I do not ask 
In my cup of blessing be, 

I would have my spirit filled the more 
With grateful love to Thee ; 

And careful — less to serve Thee much, 
Than to please Thee perfectly \ 

There are briars besetting every path, 
Which call for patient care ; 

There is a cross in every lot, 
And a need for earnest prayer ; 

But a lowly heart that leans on Thee 
Is happy any where. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 303 

In a service which Thy love appoints 

There are no bonds for me; 
For my secret heart is taught "the truth" 

That makes Thy children "free;" 
And a life of self-renouncing love 

Is a life of liberty ! 



&J;at foe mag seriottslg applg ottr Jjearts to tftat J}oI|j anfc 
fteabml|j fotstiom, fofjilst foe I&e fjere, foljirif mag in tfje enfc 
foring tts to life everlasting* 

ST. LUKE XII. 8. 
"WHOSOEVER SHALL CONFESS ME—" 

' ' L iturgia Domestica. " 

O JESUS, Lord,— the Way, the Truth, 
The Life, the Crown of all 
Who here on earth confess Thy Name ; 
O hear us when we call. 

We bring to mind, with grateful joy, 

Thy servants, who of old 
Withstood the snares of earth and hell, 

And now Thy face behold. 

Who sought on earth the joys of prayer, 

And that communion knew, 
Which saints and angels share above 

With those who seek it too. 



304 HYMNS AND POEMS 



Vouchsafe us, Lord, we pray Thee now, 

To us it may be given, 
Like them to live and die in Thee, 

And with them rise to Heaven. 



GTfjat foe mag sertouslg appljr our Jjearts to tfjat Jjolg ant! 
Fjeabenlg foistrom, fcrfjilst foe Ifoe fjere, fofjirfj mag in tfje en& 
bring us to life eberlastmg, 

Henry Vaughan. 

THEY are all gone into a world of light ! 
And I alone sit lingering here ! 
Their very memory is fair and bright, 
And my sad thoughts doth clear. 

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast 

Like stars upon some gloomy grove, 
Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest, 
After the sun's remove. 

I see them walking in an air of glory, 

Whose light doth trample on my days ; 
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, 
Mere glimmering and decays. 

O holy hope ! and high humility ! 

High as the heavens above ! 
These are your walks, and you have show'd them me 
To kindle my cold love. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 305 

Dear, beauteous Death \ the jewel of the just ! 

Shining no where but in the dark ; 

What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, 

Could man outlook that mark ! 

He that hath found some fledg'd bird's-nest may 
know 
At first sight if the bird be flown ; 
But what fair dell or grove he sings in now, 
That is to him unknown. 

And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams 

Call to the soul when man doth sleep, 
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted 
themes, 
And into glory peep. 

If a star were confm'd into a tomb, 

Her captive flames must needs burn there ; 
But when the hand that locked her up gives room, 
She'll shine through all the sphere. 

O, Father of eternal life, and all 
Created glories under Thee ! 
Resume Thy spirit from this world of thrall 
Into true liberty ! 

Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill 

My perspective still as they pass ; 
Or else remove me hence unto that Hill, 
Where I shall need no glass. 



A PRAYER FOR PERSONS TROUBLED IN MIND 
OR CONSCIENCE. 

@ |glesseb $Lorb, tlje Jfatljer of mercies, anb tlje 
dob of all comfort* ; Wit beseec!) Sl)ee, look boum 
in pitg anb compassion upon tt)is 2Tl)g afflicteb 
Seruani ©Ijou toritest bitter things against l)im, 
anb makest l)im to possess I)is former iniquities ; 
§H)g mratl) lietl) fyarb upon l)im, anb l)is soul is 
full of trouble: "put, @ merciful (gob, toi)0 fyast 
toritten Sljg I)olg <Mtorb for our learning, tl)at toe, 
tfyrougl) patience anb comfort of Sl)g fyolg JScrip 
tnres, migljt I)aue !)ope ; giue l)im a rigl)t unber- 
Stanbing of fyimself, anb of 2tyg threat* anb pro* 
mises, tl)at l)e mag neither cast amag l)is eonfibence 
in ®ljee, nor place it ang toliere but in ®!)ee. @iue 
\}'xm strengtl) against all f)is temptations, anb Ijeal 
all l)is bistempers* !§reak not tt)e bruiseb reeb, 
nor queue!) % smoking Eas, jfefyut not up ©l)g 
tenber mercies in bispleasure ; but make l)im to 
l)ear of jog anb glabness, tljat t\)t bones ro!)icl) 
®f)ou fyast broken mag rejoice, peliuer I)im from 
fear of tlje enemg, anb lift up i\)t ligl}t of Sfljg 
countenance upon l)im, anb giue l)im peace, tfyrougl) 
t\)z merits anb mebiation of |esus ffll)rist our 
$Lorb, ^tmen. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 307 



WLz fasmfj Wqzty look tofon in pitg antt compassion upon 
tfjts Efjg afflicted servant 

PSALM LXXXVIII. 

J. C. Hare. 

LORD God, my Saviour, day and night 
I make my cry to Thee : 
O let my prayer before Thee rise, 
Incline Thine ear to me. 

My soul is bowed with grievous woes ; 

My life draws nigh the grave 
Like those who fall into the pit, 

No health or strength I have. 

Cast me not out, O God, with those 

Who in their trespass die, 
Who from Thy mercy are cut off, 

By Thee forgotten lie. 

Thus will I daily cry to Thee, 

And humbly seek Thy grace. 
O do not quite forsake me, Lord r 

Nor from me hide Thy face. 



308 HYMNS AND POEMS 



?§ts soul is full of trouble ; 
PSALM XLII. 

H. F. Lyte. 

LONE amidst the dead and dying, 
Lord, my spirit faints for Thee; 
Longing, thirsting, drooping, sighing, 
When shall I Thy presence see ? 

O how altered my condition ; 

Late I led the joyous throng ; 
Beat my heart with full fruition, 

Flowed my lips with grateful song. 

Now the storm goes wildly o'er me, 
Waves on waves my soul confound : 

Nought but boding fears before me, 
Nought but threatening foes around. 

Save me, save me, O my Father ! 

To thy faithful word I cling : 
Thence, my soul, thy comfort gather ; 

Hope, and thou again shalt sing. 

(tixtioz Jjtm a rtgfjt understanding of fjitnself, 

R. C. Trench 



FOR thou hast known, if I may read aright 
The pages of thy past existence — thou 
Hast known the dreary sickness of the soul, 
That falls upon us in our lonely youth ; 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 309 

The fear of all bright visions leaving us, 

The sense of emptiness, without the sense 

Of an abiding fulness any where ; 

When all the generations of mankind, 

With all their purposes, their hopes and fears, 

Seem nothing truer than those wandering shapes 

Cast by a trick of light upon a wall, 

And nothing different from these, except 

In their capacity for suffering ; 

What time we have the sense of sin, and none 

Of expiation. Our own life seemed then 

But as an arrow flying in the dark 

Without an aim, a most unwelcome gift, 

Which we might not put by. But now, what God 

Intended as a blessing and a boon 

We have received as such, and we can say — 

A solemn yet a joyful thing is life, 

Which being full of duties, is for this 

Of gladness full, and full of lofty hopes. 

And He has taught us what reply to make, 

Or secretly in spirit, or in words, 

If there be need, when sorrowing men complain 

The fair illusions of their youth depart, 

All things are going from them, and to-day 

Is emptier of delights than yesterday, 

Even as to-morrow will be barer yet ; 

We have been taught to feel this need not be, 

This is not life's inevitable law, — 

But that the gladness we are called to know 

Is an increasing gladness, that the soil 

Of human heart, tilled rightly, will become 



3IO HYMNS AND POEMS 

Richer and deeper, fitter to bear fruit 
Of an immortal growth, from day to day, 
Fruit of love, life, and indeficient joy. 



(£fte Jim a rtgfyt tmtostan&mg of Jjtmself, attif of &Jjg 
threats attfc promises ; 

(part. ) 

Joseph Beaumont. 

TURN thine eye 
Inward, and observe thy breast ; 
There alone dwells solid rest : 
That's a close immured tower 
Which can mock all hostile power — 
To thyself a tenant be, 
And inhabit safe and free. 
Say not that this house is small, 
Girt up in a narrow wall : 
In a cleanly sober mind 
Heaven itself full room doth find; 
The infinite Creator can 
Dwell in it — why may not man ? 
Here, Content, make thine abode 
With thyself, and with thy God. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 311 



(3Hbe Jjtm a rtgfjt tmtierstantftncj of fjxmself, antr of GTfjg 
threats anti promises ; 

Sir y. Davies. 

IF aught can teach us aught, affliction's lookes 
Make us to looke into ourselves so neare, 
Teach us to know ourselves beyond all bookes, 
Or all the learned schooles that ever were. 



tEfjat Jje tnag neither cast afoag fjts confluence in Wqzz, 
nor place it ang fofjere but in Wqzz, 

(part.) 

G. Gascoigne. 

THE mistie cloudes that fall sometime 
And overcast the skies, 
Are like to troubles of our time, 
Which do but dimme our eies. 

But as such dewes are dried up quite, 
When Phebus shewes his face ; 

So are sad fancies put to flight 
When God doth guide by grace. 



312 HYMNS AND POEMS 



(£ibe Jjim a rtgfjt tmtrerstantiing of Jjtmsetf, antr of Gffjg 
threats anti promises ; tfjat fye mag neither cast afoag fjts 
ronftoence in Wtjzz, nor place it ang fofjere but in &fjee. 

Francis Quarles. 

O WHITHER shall I fly? what path untrod 
Shall I seek out to 'scape the flaming rod 
Of my offended, of my angry God ? 

Where shall I sojourn? what kind sea will hide 
My head from thunder ? Where shall I abide 
Until His flames be quenched or laid aside ? 

What if my feet should take their hasty flight, 
And seek protection in the shades of night ? 
Alas ! no shades can blind the God of light. 

What if my soul should take the wings of day 
And find some desert ? If she springs away, 
The wings of vengeance clip as fast as they. 

What if some solid rock should entertain 
Thy frighted soul ? can solid rocks restrain 
The stroke of justice, and not cleave in twain? 

Nor sea, nor shade, nor rock, nor cave, 
Nor silent deserts, nor the sullen grave, 
What flame-eyed fury means to smite, can save. 

The seas will part, graves open, rocks will split ; 
The shield will cleave, the frighted shadows flit ; 
Where justice aims, her fiery dart must hit. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 313 

No, no, if stern-browed Vengeance means to thunder, 
There is no place above, beneath, or under, 
So close but will unlock, or rive in sunder. 

Tis vain to flee ; 'tis neither here nor there 
Can 'scape that hand, until that hand forbear ; 
Ah me ! where is He not, that's every where ? 

'Tis vain to flee, till gentle Mercy show 

Her better eye ; the further off we go 

The swing of Justice deals the mightier blow. 

The ingenuous child corrected, doth not fly 
His angry mother's hand ; but climbs more nigh, 
And quenches with his tears her flaming eye. 

Shadows are faithless, and the rocks are false ; 
No trust in brass, no trust in marble walls ; 
Poor cots are even as safe as princes' halls. 

Great God ! there is no safety here below ; 
Thou art my fortress, Thou that seem'st my foe, 
'Tis Thou, that strik'st the stroke, must guard the 
blow. 

Thou art my God, by Thee I fall or stand ; 
Thy grace hath given me courage to withstand 
All tortures, but my conscience, and Thy hand. 

I know Thy justice is Thyself ; I know, 
Just God, Thy very self is mercy too : 
If not to Thee, where, whither shall I go ? 



314 HYMNS A ND POEMS 

Then work Thy will : if passion bid me flee, 
My reason shall obey ; my wings shall be 
Stretched out no further than from Thee to Thee. 



ffitbe Jjim strength against all fjis temptations, ano ijeai all 
fyis oistempers* 

Sir J. Harrington. 

GOD hath made a salve for every sore, 
If men would learn the same for to apply. 



&fjut not up Wy& tenner mercies in displeasure ; out make 
fym to fjear of jog ano glaoness, 

SACRED SONNET. 

Donne. 

THOU hast made me, and shall Thy work decay: 
Repair me now, for mine end doth haste ; 
I run to death, and death meets me as fast, 
And all my pleasures are like yesterday — 
I dare not move my dimme eyes any way ; 
Despair behind, and death before, doth cast 
Such terrour, and my feeble flesh doth waste 
By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh ; 
Only Thou art above, and when towards Thee, 
By Thy leave I can look, I rise again ; 
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me, 
That not one hour myself I can sustain : 
Thy Grace may wing me to prevent his art, 
And Thou like adamant draw my iron heart. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 315 



JSfjttt not up GTjjg tenter merries in fctspleasxtre ; but mafte 
fjtm to fjear of jog anti glatfness, 



JONAH'S PRAYER. 



Lewis Way. 



BY reason of affliction sore, 
Disquieted in heart I roar, 
In belly of the grave. 
The Lord hath cast my troubled soul 
Where all His waves and billows roll ; 
O Lord, Thy servant save ! 

Compassed about with waters wide, 
The weeds, the sport of ev'ry tide, 

Are wrapt around my head : 
Down in the mountains of the sea, 
My fainting soul remembers Thee, 

O raise me from the dead ! 

I look towards that holy place, 
Where sinners find a throne of grace, 

And there I fix mine eyes. 
My vows unto the Lord I'll pay, 
And there, upon His altar, lay 

My willing sacrifice. 



3 1 6 HYMNS AND POEMS 



<£f)ttt not up Vc& tender merries in displeasure ; but make 
J)tm to Jjear of jog attfc glatmess, tfjat tfje bones fofjirij &ijou 
ijast broken mag rejoire. 

HYMN. 

OTHOU, in still seclusion near, 
My joy, my grief, my hope, my fear; 
Father and Saviour ! let me be 
For one bright moment near to Thee. 

Break, fetters, break — and let my soul 
For once escape your base control, 
And the pure liberty of Heaven 
Enjoy, and feel myself forgiven. 

Dark hours, and days less bright may come, 
Again this wayward heart may roam ; 
But thus to catch one living ray, 
Would thousand waiting hours repay. 

Yet rather grant — where'er I rove, 
Whatever joys my spirit move, 
Still that my life be hid with Thee— 
Centre of light and life to me ! 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 3 1 7 



HBel&er Jn'm from fear of tfje enemg, antf lift up tfje Itgljt of 
&f)2 countenance upon ijim, anti gibe {jtm peace, 

PSALM CXLIII. 

LORD, to my cries afford an eare, 
The afflicted heare ; 
According to Thy equity 

And truth reply ; 
Nor prove severe, for in Thy sight 
None living shall be found upright. 

The foe my soule besiegeth round, 
Strikes to the ground, 

In darkness hath enveloped, 

Like men long dead ; 

My mind with sorrow overthrowne, 

My heart within me stupid growne. 

I call to mind those ancient daies 

Filled with Thy praise ; 

Thy works alone possess my thought, 
With wonder wrought ; 

To Thee I stretch my zealous hand, 

Desired like raine for thirsty land. 

Approach with speed ; my spirits faile, 
Thy face unveile ; 



3i8 



HYMNS AND POEMS 



Lest I forthwith grow like those 

Whom graves inclose ; 
O let me of Thy mercy heare 
Before the morning sun appeare. 

My God, Thou art the only scope 
Of all my hope ; 

O show me thy prescribed way, 

Lest I should stray; 

For to Thy throne I raise mine eyes, 

My soule and all my faculties. 

Save from my foes ; to Thee, lo ! I 
For refuge fly ; 

Informe me, that I may fulfil 
Thy sacred will : 

My God, let Thy good Spirit lead, 

That in Thy paths my feet may tread. 

O for Thy honour quicken me, 

Who trust in Thee ; 

Out of these straits for justice sake 
Thy servant take ; 

In mercy cut Thou off my foes, 

Whose hate hath multiplied my woes. 



FOR THE SICK AND SUFFERING 3 1 9 



JBeltuer fjtm from fear of tfje enemg, attir lift up tfje Itgfjt of 
Efjg countenance upon fym, anti gibe fjtm peace, 

PSALM CXLII. 

Sandys. 

WITH sighes and cries to God I prayed, 
To Him my supplication made, 
Poured out my teares, 
My cares and feares ; 
My wrongs before Him laide. 

My fainting spirits almost spent, 
He knew the path in which I went ; 

Yet in my way 

Their snares they lay, 
With mercilesse intent. 

My eyes I round me throw, 

None see, that will the oppressed know ; 

No refuge left, 

Of hope bereft, 
Vaine pity none bestow. 

Then unto God I cried and said, 
Thou art my hope and only aid, 

The portion 

I build upon 
While with fraile flesh arrayed. 



320 HYMNS AND POEMS 

O Source of mercy, heare my cry, 
Lest I with wasting sorrow die : 

Shield from my foes, 

Who now enclose ; 
Since of more strength than I. 

My soule out of this prison bring, 
That I may praise Thee, O my King. 

Who trust in Thee 

Shall compass me, 
And of Thy bountie sing. 



Etft up t \i Itgfjt of &f}2j countenance upon fyttn, anfc gibe Jjim 
peace, tJjroujrf) tfje merits an& mediation of Sesus (Jurist our 
Ecrtu ftrnm. 

(part.) 

Henry Vaughan. 

OWHEN my God, my glory, brings 
, His white and holy train 
Unto those clear and living springs 
Where comes no stain ! 

Where all is light, and flowers, and fruit, 

And joy, and rest, 
Make me amongst them, 'tis my suit, 

The last one and the least ! 



INDEX OF AUTHORS 



The Poems hitherto unpublished are distinguished by aji asterisk. 



Barrett, Miss E. B. 
(Mrs. Barrett Browning) . 



Beaumont, Sir J. 
Born 1582, died 1628 . 

Beaumont, Dr. Joseph. 
Born 1615, died 1699 . 

Blackburne, T. . 

Breton, Nicholas. 
Born 1555, died 1624 . 

Browne, Sir Thomas. 
Born 1605, died 1682 . 



Chandler, Rev. J. 

" Hymns of the Primitive 
Church" .... 



* Comfort 
Bereavement 

* Reparation 
Consolation 
The Sleep . 



Desolation 

Home 
*An Easter Hymn 

A Prayer 

Evening Hymn . 
* Dialogue . 



PAGE 

• 32 
. 104 
. 227 
. 231 

• 250 



109 



. 3™ 
• 253 



232 

93 



Coleridge, S. T. 
Cowper, William 



Davies, Sir J. 

Born 1570, died 1626 . 



Lamentation of a sinner 
O Jesu, Lord 

Thou brightness 

O God of our salvation 

While thine avenging 

My Baptismal Birthday 



Prayer 
Submission 
'Tis my happiness 
O child of sorrow 



Affliction 



6 
24 

35 
40 

It>2 
I36 



83 

99 
107 



3" 



322 



INDEX OF A UTHORS 



Davison, Francis. 
Born about 1570 

De Vere, Sir Aubrey . ^ 
De Vere, Aubrey 

Donne, Dr. 
Born 1573, died 1631 

Drummond, William. 
Born 1585, died 1649 

Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia. 
Born 1597, died 1662 . 

C. E 

E.F. . . . , 

Flatman, Thomas. 
Born 1635, died 1688 . 

Fletcher, Phineas. 
Born 1584, died 1650 . 

Fosbery, Rev. T. V. 

Gambold, Rev. J. 
Born 1710, died 1771 . 

Gascoigne, George. 
Born 1536, died 1577 . 

Grant, Sir R. 



God my refuge . 
Sonnet 



PAGE 

. 206 



Count each affliction 
Sad is our youth 

Sacred Sonnet . 



Jerusalem, that place 



A Prayer . 

Thy will be done 
Holy Saviour 

■"Much have I borne 



Evening Hymn . 



Psalm cxxx. 

*The Lone Rock . 
*Psalm lxxviii. 39 

Epitaph on himself 



The mistie cloudes 



Habington, William. 
Born 1605, died 1645 . 

Hare, Archdeacon . 

Harrington, Sir J. 
Born 1561, died 1612 . 

Hemans, Felicia 

Herbert, George. 
Born 1593, died 1632 . 



Litany 
Psalm lxxi. 
Hebrews iv. 15 . 

Where have I wandered 
You spirits 

Psalm lxxxviii. . 



God hath made . 

Sunday. — Sonnet 
Prayer in the Wilderness 

Sighs and groans 
Repentance 
The Elixir . 
The Holdfast . 
Church Lock and Key 



247 



INDEX OF A UTHORS 



323 



Herbert, George 



Herrick, Robert. 

Born 1591, death unknown 



Hickes, Dean. 

Born 1642, died 1715. 
(From his Devotions) 



Jebb, Bishop 

Jonson, Ben. _ 

Born 1574, died 1637 . 

Keble, Rev. J. . 



Ken, Bishop. _ 
Born 1637, di e d I 7 I ° - 



Longfellow, H. . 
Lyte, Rev. H. F. 



Martyn, Rev. Henry 

Milton, John. 

Born 1608, died 1674 . 



Grace 




. 30 


Affliction . 




• 36 


The Pulley 




. 101 


The Method 




• I 34 


The Dawning 




• 149 


Death 




. 172 


Employment 




. 189 


Sunday 




. 191 


The Flower 


. 212 


Litany to the Holy Spirit . . 287 


To God . 


. 300 


My God, to Thee 


• 45 


'Tis not for us . 


. 116 


Wake now, my soul 


. 214 


Fain would my thoughts . .235 


Dear Jesu ! when 


. 274 



O Thou, whose all-enlivening . 259 



To God 



16th Sunday after Trinity . 
St. John's Day . 
Monday before Easter 
Wednesday before Easter 



Submit yourself to God 


. 40 


Submission 


. 86 


Since 'tis God's will . 


. 88 


Dying to the world . 


. 285 


Footsteps of angels . 


. t6o 


God's Acre 


. 165 


Psalm xxxi. 


• x 9 


The Wall-Flower 


• 57 


Psalm lxxxiv. 


. 64 


It is I; be not afraid . 


. 150 


November . 


. 166 


Abide with me . 


• 2 57 


Autumnal Hymn 


. 294 


Psalm xlii. 


. 308 



Say wouldst thou live 



On his blindness 

On time 

At a solemn music 



164 
216 



3 2 4 



INDEX OF A UTHORS 



-Monsell, Rev. J. S. . 



PAGE 

Birds have their quiet . . 3 

Acts xvii. 27 . . .54 

My Father and my God . . 89 

Mark ix. 24 . . . . 179 

For my Mother . . . 223 

*By the bed-side of a sick Child . 242 

*On the death of an Infant . . 245 

When friend from friend . . 255 

*Soon — and for ever . . . 270 



Moultrie, Rev. J. 



4th Sunday in Advent . . 80 
Epitaph in Heme churchyard . 249 
Midsummer Musings . . 298 



E. M. 



*Prayer 10 

Job x. 2 ^ . . . . .37 

^Thoughts in Affliction . . 79 
Communion with the Departed 157 
Col. i. 27 291 



E. L. M 


. *Come tribulation 


. 120 


Newton, Rev. John. . 


. Prayer answered by Crosses 


. 6 7 




The Child .... 


• 91 




Jesus my all 


. 146 




Joy and peace in believing 


. 194 


Norris, John. 






Born 1657, died 1711 . 


. The Resignation 


. 92 


Quarles, Francis. 






Born 1592, died 1644 . 


. My soul, thy gold 


. 38 




Brevity of life . 


• 52 




Hope in God 


. 224 




O whither .... 


. 312 



Quarles, John. 

Born 1624, died 1665 . 

Raleigh, Sir Walter. 
Born 1552, died 1618 . 



Sandys, George. 

Born 1577, died 1643 . 



Spenser, Edmund. 
Born 1553, died 1599 



Divine Ejaculation 



Rise, O my soul 

The Night before his Death 



66 
205 



Psalm Ivii. . . . .26 

Psalm cxvi. .... 207 

At the Holy Sepulchre . . 261 

Psalm cxliii 317 

Psalm cxlii 319 



The Ministry of Angels 
What man is he . 
Order of Providence . 



23 
39 
5o 



INDEX OF A UTHORS 



3 2 5 



J. S. 



Taylor, Jeremy, Bishop. 
Born 1613, died 1667 , 



Taylor, Francis. 
Born about 1658 

Taylor, Miss Emily. 

Thomas, Elizabeth. 
Born 1675, died 1730 

Trench, Rev. R. C. 



Vaughan, Henry. 
Born 1621, died 1695 . 



The more by thought 

No holier truth . 

For strength and not . 

Thou canst not do 

God only smites 

Swim through the waves 

Faith in peril 

The voyage of earth . 

Is life a sea 

Earth and Heaven 

Where to look . 



Prayer 
Heaven 



Desire of Heaven 

Rejoicing in tribulation 
Patience in affliction . 

Ah ! strive no more . 



Prayer 

The Suppliant . 
Thou earnest not 
Couplets .... 
Rejoice evermore 
O thou of dark forebodings 
Life through Death . 
*Dies Irae .... 
The kingdom of God 
Not Thou from us 
Once if I felt . 
One time I was allowed 
Some murmur . 
The Day of Death . 
Dust to Dust 
When hearts are full . 
A passage from St. Augustin 
For thou hast known 



Peace 

The Evening Watch 

Affliction . 

Love and Discipline 

Death 

Rules and Lessons 

The Dawning 

The Throne 

Joy of my Life . 

Resurrection and Immortality 

I walked the other day 

Faith 



326 



INDEX OF A UTHORS 



Vaughan, Henry . . . The Constellation 
Misery- 
Praise 

The Agreement 
The Pilgrimage 
The Check 
They are all gone 
O, when my God 

A. L. W. . . . . . My times are in Thy Hand 



PAGE 

. 190 

• 195 
. 209 

. 2TI 

• 239 

• 295 

• 304 
. 320 

. 30I 



Waller, Edmund. 
Born 1605, died 1687 . 

Way, Rev. Lewis 



Wesley, Charles 
Whytehead, Rev. T. 

WlLBERFORCE, BlSHOP 



Wither, George. 
Born 1588, died 1667 . 



Wordsworth, William 



Wotton, Sir Henry . 
Born 1568, died 1639 • 



Of Divine Love , 

*More than Conquerors 

*Psalm xlii 

*Jonah's Prayer . 

Life through Death . 

Thou spakest . 

Hymn at the Foot of the Cross 

The Second Day of Creation 



290 

34 
184 
3i5 

83 

70 
219 
264 



The Seventh Day of Creation . 282 



*Jer. x. 24 . 
*Mark x. 39 
*Within this leaf 
*A11 Saints . 
* Secret Prayer 
*I never watched 



Divers Providences . 
The voice which I did 

The Prayers I make . 
Support under affliction 



O Thou great power . 



. 69 
. 108 

• 133 

• 153 
. 192 
. 250 

■ 56 

• 297 

• 39 
. 49 



.230 



INDEX OF A UTHORS 



327 



ANONYMOUS 



*2 Cor. v. 4 . 
The Sea Bird 
Easter Day 

*The Sick Room 

*Hymn 



From the " Child's Christian 
Year" 



From " Church Poetry" . 
From the "Dove on the Cross" 



From the " Educational 
Magazine" 



From " Elegiac Poems " 



From " Gems of Sacred 
Poetry" . 



O Lord, how happy 
Luke xxii. 42 
Evening 



Autumn Sunset . 



From "The Hours" . 

From " The Liturgy " . - . 

From " Liturgia Domestica " . 

MS. found in a Chest in a poor 
Woman's Cottage 

From "Psalter in English 
Verse" 



Pain .... 
The Border-Lands 
Consumption 

The Mystery of Nature 

From the Arabic 
The Lent Jewels 
What, many times 
Where is this Infant . 
Who that a watcher . 

Who is alone 

Sixth Hour 
Ninth Hour 

Come, Holy Ghost . 

Whoso shall confess . 



*Midnight Hymn 



From "Sintram' : 



Prom "The Life of 
Tersteegen" . 



Psalm xxiii. 

When death is coming 

Thou hidden love 



PAGE 

41 
86 
123 
244 
316 



82 
121 
228 

299 

260 
262 
267 

176 

47 
73 
98 
248 
292 

128 



272 
152 
303 



33 
256 



2 A 



INDEX 

%* The Poems hitherto unpublished are distingtashed by an asterisk. 

PAGE 

A dewdrop falling on the wild sea wave 131 

Abide with me . 257 

Affliction then is ours 36 

*Ah little knew I, Lord 108 

Ah strive no more to know what fate 47 

Ah what time wilt thou come 141 

All are not taken 231 

All night the lonely suppliant prayed 27 

And is there care in Heaven 23 

*Art thou a pilgrim and alone 10 

As he that in the midst 295 

As travellers when the twilight's come 239 

Ask not who ended here his span 204 

Awake, sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns . . . . . 149 

* Awake, thou wintry earth 253 

Behold, how short a span 52 

Bend not thy light-desiring eyes 163 

Birds have their quiet nests 3 

Blest pair of sirens 216 

Bright and blest beam, whose strong projection . . . .180 

But be this even as it may . 298 

' But how should we be glad 109 

*By reason of affliction sore 315 

Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire 152 

*Come, tribulation, come 120 

Count each affliction, whether light or grave 78 

Dear Jesu, when, when will it be 274 

Death, thou wert once an uncouth, hideous thing . . . .172 
Despair not in the vale of woe 47 

Even such is time, that takes on trust 205 



INDEX 329 



PAGE 

Fain would my thoughts fly up to Thee 235 

Farewell, I go to sleep 44 

Father, by Thy love and power 228 

Father, into Thy loving hands 262 

Father, I know that all my life . 301 

Fly, envious time, till thou run out thy race 164 

For strength and not for fear, O man 24 

For thou hast known, if I may read aright 308 

* From the deep stillness of its mossy head 192 

From the depths of grief and fear 183 

God's child in Christ adopted 136 

God hath made a salve for every sore ...... 314 

God only smites that through the wounds 38 

Great God, whose sceptre rules the earth 14 

Guest in a ruinous hut 75 

Hear me, O God 102 

Hear, O Lord and God, my cries 206 

Holy Saviour, friend unseen 20 

How fresh, O Lord, how sweet 212 

How heavily the path of life 128 

How many blessed groups . . 193 

I asked the Lord that I might grow 67 

I know it is my sin . . . . * 26 

I like that ancient Saxon phrase 165 

* I never watched upon a wilder night 250 

I say to thee, do thou repeat 144 

I threatened to observe the strict decree 19 

I've watched the sea-bird 86 

I walked the other day to spend . . . . . . . 173 

If aught can teach us 311 

If as a flower doth spread 189 

Impendent death and guilt 290 

*In health, O Lord, and prosperous days 41 

In schools of wisdom, all the day 73 

In Thee, dear Lord, my pensive soul 224 

In the deep wilderness unseen she prayed 237 

In the hour of my distress 287 

*In the mid silence of the voiceless night 234 

Is life a sea ? O no, 'tis steadier far 145 

*It was upon the morning of All Saints 153 

Jerusalem, that place divine 63 

Jesus, I would be Thine alone 291 



33 O INDEX 



PAGE 

Jesus, my breath is failing 267 

Jesus, Saviour, sympathize 260 

Joy of my life while left me here 156 

King of comforts, King of life 209 

*Like as the thirsty roe ... 184 

Like Thy blessed self, Lord, teach me to submit . . . .86 

Lone amidst the dead and dying 308 

Long have I viewed, long have I thought 92 

Lord, and what shall this man do 112 

Lord God, my Saviour, day and night 307 

Lord, I confess my sin is great 7 

Lord, to my cries afford an eare 317 

Lord, what a change within us one short hour . . . .10 

Loud was the wind, and wild the tide 150 

Mourner in Zion ! do not weep 124 

*Much have I borne, but not as I should bear 100 

My Father and my God 89 

My God, my Father, while I stray 17 

My God, to Thee ourselves we owe 45 

My Shepherd is the Lord 33 

My soul doth pant towards Thee 269 

My soule intirely shall affect 207 

My soul lives but a stranger here 285 

My soul, there is a country 1 

My soul, thy gold is true . . 38 

My spirit on thy care 19 

My stock lies dead, and no increase 30 

No holier truth has reached us from above 2 

*Not all at once, not in Thy wrath 69 

Not in Thine hours of conflict, Lord 121 

Not Thou from us, O Lord, but we 186 

*Now all is done that love, and care 242 

Oh ! blessing, wearing semblance 284 

O beauteous God, uncircumscribed treasure 273 

O child of sorrow, be it thine to know 107 

O day most calm, most bright 191 

O do not use me 4 

O for some soothing voice ." 157 

O God, the Lord of place and time 22 

O God, unchangeable and true 272 

O God of our salvation, Lord 40 

O how soft that bed must be 223 



INDEX 33I 



PAGE 

O Jesu, Lord of heavenly grace 24 

O Jesus, Lord, the Way, the Truth . 303 

O long to be installed in the throne 280 

O Lord, how happy should we be 82 

O Lord, my best desire fulfil 84 

O Lord my God, do Thou Thy holy will 125 

O Lord, turn not Thy face away 6 

*0 Lord, when troublous billows roll . . . ^ . . . -34 
O my God, for Christ His sake 187 

*"0 that day, that day of ire 139 

O Thou from whom all mercy springs 26 

O Thou great power, in whom I move 230 

*0 Thou, in still seclusion near 316 

O Thou majesty divine 219 

*0 Thou, my kind chastising God 79 

O Thou of dark forebodings drear 113 

O Thou whose all enlivening ray 259 

() Thou whose gently chastening hand 37 

O Thou whose wise paternal love 83 

O when my God, my glory, brings 320 

O whither shall I fly 312 

Of all the thoughts of God that are 250 

Of things unseene, how canst thou deeme 50 

Oft have I seen when- that renewing breath 169 

Oft have I thought they err 247 

One adequate support 49 

One time I was allowed to steer . 200 

Once if I felt no heart or strength 188 

Peace, peace, it is not so • 7 2 

Plant, Lorde, in me 37 

Pleasant are Thy courts above . 64 

Poor heart, lament 134 

Quiet, Lord, my froward heart 91 

Rejoice in Christ alway 80 

Rise, O my soul, with Thy desires 66 

Sabbath of the saints of old 282 

Sad is our youth, for it is ever going 231 

*Saviour, beneath Thy yoke -93 

Saviour of Mankind, Man, Emmanuel 261 

Saviour, when in dust to Thee 14? 

Say wouldst thou live 107 

Since in a land not barren 103 



S3 2 INDEX 



PAGE 

Since 'tis God's will, pain, take your course 88 

Some murmur when their sky is clear 204 

Sometimes a light surprises 194 

*Soon — and for ever 270 

Sleep, downy sleep ! come close my eyes 31 

* Speak to me, O my Saviour 32 

Submit yourself to God, and you shall find 40 

Such is man's life, and such is mine 195 

Sweet babe, from griefs and dangers 249 

"Swift o'er the desert plains the wild wind sweeps .... 155 
Swim through the waves of time 60 

Teach me, my God and King 16 

The autumn wind is moaning 166 

The more by Thought thou leav'st the crowd behind ... 2 

This grey round world, so full of life 145 

The leaves around me falling 294 

The mistie cloudes that fall sometime 311 

The night is come ; like to the day 232 

The prayers I make 39 

The Son of David bowed to die .... . 123 

The voice which I did more esteem 297 

There are who sigh that no fond heart 118 

*There is a single stone 105 

There is a world of death 163 

They are all gone into a world of light 304 

This outward life, with all its busy forms 66 

This then must be. the medicine 109 

This world I deem . . 264 

'Tis my happiness below 99 

'Tis not for us, and our proud hearts . . . . .116 

Thou art near, — yes, Lord, I feel it. 54 

Thou brightness of Thy Father's face 35 

Thou cam'st not to thy place by accident 46 

Thou canst not do the thing thou wouldst 24 

Thou hast made me, and shall Thy work 314 

Thou hidden love of God 202 

Thou inevitable day 267 

Thou spakest ; and the waters rolled ... . . 70 

Though since thy first sad entrance 132 

Thus, by our lusts disordered into wars 190 

Turn thine eye inward 310 

Until Thou didst comfort me ....♦.,. 211 



index 333 



PAGE 

Wake now, my soul, and humbly hear . . . . .214 

*Watching, through the silent hours 244 

Wert thou a wanderer on a foreign strand 293 

What do they say — those forest trees . . . . ' . . 299 
What man is he that boasts of fleshy might . . . "* . -39 

What, many times I musing asked, is man 98 

What, though my harp 300 

What various hindrances we meet . . 12 

When all the year our fields are fresh and green . . . .56 

When death is coming near 256 

When first thine eyes unveil 137 

When friend from friend is parting 255 

When gathering clouds around I view 221 

When God at first made man 101 

When hearts are full of yearning 289 

When I consider how my light 89 

When some beloveds 'neath whose eyelids lay .... 104 

*When some beloved voice 227 

When summer suns their radiance fling . . . . .114 

When the hours of day are numbered 160 

When with these eyes, closed now by Thee . . . . . 149 

Where have I wandered 224 

Where is this infant ? it is gone 248 

While Thine avenging arrows, Lord 162 

Who that a watcher doth remain 292 

*Why dost thou weep ? say can it be 245 

Why loves my flower, so high reclined 57 

Why roam'st thou, sad and downward eyed 176 

Why should I fear the darkest hour 146 

With sighes and cries . . 319 

With years oppressed, with sorrows worn 199 

* Within this leaf to every eye 133 

Wish not, dear friends, my pain away 61 

Yes, I do feel, my God, that I am Thine 179 

You spirits, that have thrown away 278 



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